Shedding Skin
by Lizzy De Bellezza
Summary: In the face of the Dark Lord rising again, Draco Malfoy is fighting his own war against himself. His dignity and sanity are wavering under this new task he has been asked to perform, but what sends him over the edge is a certain bushy-haired Hermione, reminding him that love can be found even in the darkest of times, and shouldn't be overlooked by pride.
1. Chapter 1

**_Author's_ Note:** Hi everyone! So this is my new story. I know, I know. I'm in the middle of my other story, _Black and Grey_, but I really wanted to try my hand at Dramione fanfic. So this story starts the summer of year six. Everything else is fair game, so if I go out of canon, just roll with it. I have a good feeling about this one, y'all. I hope you enjoy it.

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><p><strong>1.<strong>

_Of all of the species of venomous snakes in the entire world, only thirty of them have venom potent enough to kill a human being. _

He sat on his bed, straight up, shoulders back, constantly trying to swallow down the vomit that crept up his throat every thirty seconds. He was sure that his face was the same shade of green as his bed sheets as he heard the gut-wrenching clicking of heels climbing the stairs, and the sickening hissing sound his aunt made when she was giddy. If you would even call it that. He was not sure if his aunt was even able to feel regular human emotion anymore. Honestly, he was not sure if he was either.

His door creaked open slowly and his mother stood in the doorway, straightening out her white, wool pea coat and gesturing him to stand with her petite, gloved hand. Her sister stood behind her with her untamed black hair and wearing a blood curdling grin across her face. Draco looked in his mother's eyes as he stood, his features made completely of stone. He recognized she tried to mock his emotionless expression, but she let her lip quiver just slightly as he brushed past her and closed his bedroom door behind him.

He strolled through the sitting room and into the entry hall, his footfalls echoing off of every surface and reverberating against the twelve-foot ceilings. His father stood at the double doors at the front of the hall. Draco's shoulders tensed and he clenched his jaw as Lucius Malfoy reached out to touch his arm, as if he were attempting to extend a loving, fatherly gesture to his son. Draco turned away from him and locked arms with his mother. Lucius's face turned even paler than it had been. He had dark circles under his eyelids and he slumped over in fatigue. He attempted a smile at Narcissa, but she only looked forward and gripped Draco's wrist as they turned on a dime and disapparated from the manor.

Their feet met the hard, cobblestone street of the alley, and Draco's mother wobbled slightly as they stood in the shadows. She rubbed her thumb across the back of his hand gently, and he pulled away and headed toward Knockturn Alley. Bellatrix was skipping in front of him, humming something that barely had a tune and twirling in circles. Had any other person been acting this way, it would look sweet, charming, and maybe even a little whimsical. You would think that it was a good day. But when Bellatrix Lestrange acted this way, it was maniacal, disturbing, and it was not a good day for anyone with a soul. Draco looked away from her, disgusted at her mock girlishness. She was terrifying.

They stopped at a small store with dust covered windows and a broken door handle. He had been here before a few years ago, and frankly, he had no desire to ever go back. He felt the vomit rise in his throat again as they stepped inside and a stench of old blood and dirt filled his nostrils. He knew the smell of Fenrir Greyback. Bellatrix traipsed over to the front counter and dinged the bell annoyingly, and Greyback stepped out from behind a shelf.

"Ah, there he is. How's it, Draco?" He said as he strolled over and slapped Draco on the arm. Narcissa took a tiny step to her left, inching behind Draco's shoulder and looking toward the ground as she pursed her lips, pretending to examine a scuff on her tall, black boot.

"Greyback," he said emotionless. "I did not know you would be here." He pushed his shoulders back, puffing out his chest, aware that his mother was hiding behind him.

"I figured I would show up, considering I am a part of this little plan," He said with a low growl. Bellatrix rang the bell again, much more aggressively this time. "And what a clever plan it was. I'll have to congratulation Severus on his little idea next time I see him."

Narcissa stepped out from behind Draco. "And where is Severus?" Greyback looked toward her and a predatory flash raced behind his black eyes.

"He was needed _elsewhere_." He said, and a man emerged from the back of the store, hobbling toward them and breaking Fenrir Greyback's voracious stare.

"Ah, Borgin, so good to see you," Lucius said, breaking his attention away from an enchanted mirror and greeted the store owner, as if he were greeting an old friend.

"Yes, yes, hello, Lucius, and hello Draco! The man of the hour," Borgin said as he ignored Lucius's outstretched hand and patted Draco's shoulder. "Severus told me you would be by. Come, come. I keep it in the back." He gestured the lot to follow him and they snaked through the store, past severed hands in jars and mystical looking artifacts, and even a dark, mahogany box that appeared to be singing in Welsh. Draco reached out to touch it as he passed, but Borgin swatted his hand away. "Mustn't touch that one! There's a banshee in there. I just managed to get her to stop wailing a few hours ago." Draco furrowed his brow as he dipped his hand into his coat pocket.

They reached a doorway that was covered with a worn out, red Venetian curtain. Borgin gestured for them to enter the small room and inside was a tall, dark Oak cabinet, that looked like it had just been polished.

"We came across this nearly twenty years ago. The owners, I must say, vanished without a trace just a few days before. That lovely necklace over there belonged to them, too, but, I don't see that they will be using any of this stuff now. It needs to be repaired and all but—"

"How long?" Bellatrix interrupted harshly. Borgin looked taken aback. "How long until it is in working condition?" Borgin stuttered for a moment, fumbling for words to give her a response. "Answer me, you daft twit!"

"A few months!" He said shakily. "Maybe seven or eight. This is old magic. It will take time and skill to—"

"Well then I expect you to get to work as soon as we step foot out of this shop. If this cabinet is not in working order by the time we need it, I will not be the one to come after you, Borgin. He will." An eerie smile crept across her face that was a disgusting shade of yellow. Borgin nodded frantically in her direction, muttering 'yes ma'am,' and 'of course, right away.' Draco curled his lip at the sight of the shopkeeper. He was such a coward. Draco knew as much as anybody that you never let anyone see you being a coward.

They left the shop and headed toward Diagon Alley. Draco could tell his mother was a little more at ease now that the shadows of Knockturn Alley were behind them and they were now surrounded by people with non-murderous agendas.

"Alright, dear," she said with a sigh as she brushed some dust off of Draco's blazer. "Let's go into Madame Malkin's and get some new school robes for you. I swear you have grown a foot since last year!" She said, mustering as much of a smile as she could.

Draco huffed and walked quickly down the road, dodging people left and right. "Alright but let's make it quick. I'm not in the mood to talk to anyone from that blasted school today."

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><p>"I can't believe that Mudblood girl!" Narcissa said in a huff as they apparated into the entry way of Malfoy Manor. "To think she would even <em>speak<em> to you." She threw her hands over her head and walked into the sitting room, her heels clicking across the hardwood pine floor, echoes trailing behind her.

"Yes, she is quite the know-it-all self-righteous twat," Draco said as he draped his new robes across the arm-chair. Narcissa scoffed.

"You know I don't like it when you use such language, Draco. But I'll look past it today. That filthy Granger girl. Wouldn't it be nice if they would just take all their wands away and then burn them?"

"Burn their wands or burn the vile Mudbloods at the stake?" Draco joked.

"Either would do, really. The latter would be most suitable to me."

Narcissa made her way to the top of the staircase and her head began swimming as she grabbed the wall to steady herself. She hurried into the washroom and flung her head over the toilet bowl, waiting for the contents of her insides to spill out of her mouth. She wanted them to. She heaved for a moment, but the toilet water remained clear, untainted by the guilt she wanted purged from her stomach. She felt disgraceful. A single tear stained itself on her skin as it ran down her cheek and dripped into the toilet, a drop of black dispersing through the water from her mascara. She stood up shakily and gripped the sink, avoiding glancing into the mirror. She saw the bar of soap sitting in the holder on the edge of the sink. She remembered many years ago when she would make Draco suck on it when he said swear words in her presence. She wanted to put it in her own mouth, but she knew that would not make her feel any better. The words she said to Hermione Granger, and later to her son about Hermione Granger, tore her up from the inside. She had no cruel intentions toward muggle-borns, and pretending to be so hateful to another human being, especially one as pretty, level-headed, and bright as that Granger girl, made her wretch.

She found the courage to look herself in the mirror, to face the shell of a woman she had become; the woman who married a prejudiced bigot and raised her son, a brilliant, handsome young man, to hate instead of love. She wiped the tear stain from her porcelain cheek, and exited the bathroom, the clicking of her heels echoing in her ears and around the entire house.

Draco was standing at the end of the hall, his hands in his pockets and a stoic look on his unflinching face. She hoped he could not tell that she had been crying. That a sliver of her humanity had escaped from her always statuesque façade. She opened her mouth to speak when Draco grabbed her and pulled her close to him. At first, she was a little startled and was stiff as he held her, but as Draco pulled her close to him her, being nearly a full foot taller than she was, she relaxed in his arms, and returned his embrace. She was aware, from reading numerous parenting books, that many teenage boys will hug their mothers out of nowhere. Something having to do with security. But she never had experienced it from her own son. Though it was the first, and probably only time he would embrace her like this, she relished in it. Her son loved her. He loved somebody, and that made her feel a little bit better. A small light in the middle of an endless pitch black, cloudy night. She thought she heard a muffled sob from Draco, and with that, he released her and went to his room, slamming his door behind him.

Draco kicked the trunk that set at the foot of his king-sized four-poster. His room was one of the biggest in the whole manor, but he felt like the walls were closing in, and he felt claustrophobic. He ripped his shirt off, trying to relieve the choking sensation he felt, like removing his pompous outfit would alleviate the suffocation he was feeling. The air was so thick and hot, he felt like he might pass out. Sweat gathered above his brow as he went to the window and flung it open. The air outside was dense and humid with summer, but it chilled him to the bone as the faint breeze drifted across his face. He felt his face become hot and could feel the emotion of his situation rising up through his chest and into his neck. His vision became blurry but he blinked the tears away. He was not a coward. And if he was, he would not let it show, not even to himself.

There was a knock on Draco's bedroom door. He grabbed his shirt off the floor and threw it on, only managing a few buttons before the door flew open, and a wild-eyed Bellatrix stood in the doorway.

"Bloody hell!" Draco said as his voiced cracked slightly as he attempted to smooth his hair down.

"I knocked," she said as she strolled into the room.

"Yes, but you don't just barge in!" Bellatrix shrugged as she walked up to him, straightening out the collar of his shirt as he fumbled with the rest of the buttons.

"Such a handsome boy," she said as she patted his cheek and licked her teeth. "Shame though." She turned her back to him and began fingering little trinkets on his shelves. Draco cleared his throat.

"What's a shame?" He said, this time controlling his tone.

"You're a coward, Draco," she sang impassively. Draco blinked a few times, wondering if he had really heard her correctly.

"Excuse me?" He said, taking a few steps toward her.

"I said you're a bloody coward!" She turned to him and shouted in his face, her wretched breath resting against his skin. "You think I don't see you, moping about the halls, dragging your feet, wandering around like a lost puppy. It makes me sick!" She spat. Draco looked straight ahead. Bellatrix was the same height as his mother, and he stood a whole head above her, but there was nobody who could make him feel smaller. More insignificant. Like less than a person.

"You're wrong," he said, unflinching.

"Then prove me wrong!" She continued to shout. "You will kill that awful, sanctimonious man and you will bask in it. You will bathe in his death. You will sit at the Dark Lord's side and he will look upon you in gratitude. Or you will die. And I will be the one to kill you." Draco swallowed hard as Bellatrix circled him. "You are my nephew, Draco, and although I adore you like all aunts adore their nephews, there is no place in the ranks for cowards." Her last word was like a knife she dug into his side and twisted around. She gave one last hiss in his ear and then swept out of the room like a phantom. Draco gripped the rail of his bed and leaned against it, unable to keep himself steady as the walls closed in even more on him.

Narcissa closed her bedroom door quietly, the latch clicking into place with a light _clunk_. She reached her hand between the mattress and the bed frame and pulled out a small, leather-bound book with paper spilling out of it. She sat on the edge of the bed, stifling a sniffle and rifled through the loose papers in the book. She rested her hand on an envelope that said 'Cissy' on the front written in delicate cursive handwriting. She ran her fingertips over her name and the gently pulled the letter out of the envelope. She carefully unfolded the paper, whose inky words had been smeared and nearly worn away from the many times she had done this ritual, reading and rereading this letter time and time again. She covered her mouth as she read the letter one more time, wondering if this time she would finally send a reply to its sender.

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><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong>_So there was the first chapter. I'm trying to paint a picture here people. The things Draco went through during the summer of his sixth year. So anyways, between this story and my other story, I will have my work cut out for me! Just be patient with me and review, review, review!


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** So I got this next chapter out pretty quickly. I know it is quite shorter than the chapter before, but I am just trying to set the stage. These two have emotions that some might say one person couldn't feel all of them. Anyways, here it is.

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><p><strong>2.<strong>

_He who helped you when you were in trouble ought not afterwards be despised by you._

Sunlight speckled the floor as the sun began to peep over the hills. Hermione was sitting up in bed, reading a book that honestly had nothing to do with history, school, or her magical education. As the light from the sunrise met her eyes and made her squint, she had mixed feelings of guilt and relief. She felt guilty because she had been up for hours, reading this book about fairy tales and princesses and long-lost love instead of reading something worthwhile, something that would be useful down the road, something that might help in the fight against Voldemort. She felt relieved that she did not have to worry about trying to fall back asleep. Nightmares of the ordeal in the Department of Mysteries at the beginning of summer plagued her nearly every night and she found herself more tired in the morning than if she had just skipped sleep altogether. She finished reading the rest of the words on the page and shut the book, the smell of the old parchment meeting her nose and giving her goose bumps. It was one of her favorite smells. Those last few words lingered in her brain as a summery breeze picked up outside: 'Do you become a rose-tree, and I the rose upon it.' Her mind wandered to Ron. She counted each freckle, each strand of fiery red hair, tracing his face in her mind, grateful for something else to think about, to give her hope that there was still something to look forward to. As soon as her stomach began to flutter at the image in her mind, Ron's awkwardly handsome features melted into a pale grey face with red piercing eyes, hissing at her. She shook herself away from her daydream gone bad, and climbed out of bed, opening the shutter of her room to let more light into the room to hopefully chase away her ill feelings that weighed down like cinder blocks on her soul.

She dressed quickly, eager to get downstairs and be around people instead of trapped in her own head with her tormenting thoughts. Plus, she thought she smelled bacon. She wandered down the stairs and noticed that Mrs. Weasley was the only one about the house, flicking her wand around the kitchen, enchanting utensils and appliances while she set the table in the middle of the room.

"Oh, good morning dear!" Mrs. Weasley chimed cheerfully as she flicked a loose piece of hair away from her face and smiled sweetly at Hermione. "Don't worry about waiting for the others to make their ways down here. They won't be long if their noses are working properly. If you're hungry, I will fix you a plate! Fred and George left about an hour ago. Went to ready to shop. They say it's a big day for sales!" She was already scooping eggs onto a plate when Hermione cleared her throat and pulled out a chair from the table to sit down. Mrs. Weasley placed the plate full of eggs, bacon, biscuits and potatoes in front of her and saw Hermione's expression. She looked utterly defeated. "The post will be here shortly, I'm sure. I am sure Dumbledore knows that you and Harry are here as well!" She said cheerfully as she peered out the window and flicked her wand toward the sink, making a dish brush scrub the dishes. Hermione's heart suddenly jumped. Her head had been so clouded of late that she forgot all about her anticipation for this day. The day they received their O.W.L. marks.

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><p>"Hermione," Ron said as he bumped her shoulder, "don't look so bloody down. You got ten Outstanding marks on you O.W.L.s!" Hermione shrugged as they walked through the dense crowd of Diagon Alley. Ron dodged a group for children running the opposite way, and brushed her hand. The hairs on her arms stood up, and whether or not this intimate touch was intentional, she did not know. She hoped it was.<p>

They entered Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasion, the bell above the door tinkling brightly as the door swung open. Hermione was immediately mesmerized by a coral pink dress draped over a mannequin toward the back of the shop, but her attention was snatched away by a haughty scoff.

"Mother, these robes look absolutely atrocious," Draco Malfoy said as he stood on a pedestal in the middle of the shop, being measured by a squat old woman. "Honestly, woman, don't you have eyes? Can't you see that these robes are an atrocity? Mother, can we please—Ouch! Watch where you stick that thing!"

"If you would just hold still, young man!" Madame Malkin said as she turned her head to greet Hermione, Harry and Ron. "Oh, hello children! I will be with you in a moment!" Draco turned his head to see them properly.

"Ah," he began with his nose turned up toward the ceiling. "If it isn't the Trio of Tossers. Come to get your school robes? I believe you are in the wrong spot, unfortunately."

"Wrong spot?" Hermione said, taking a step forward, preparing herself for whatever rude remark that was about to come out of his mouth.

"Yes, Granger. I believe you will find better suiting garments at the dog groomers next door." Hermione wanted to lunge toward him, but Ron caught her arm. "While you're at it, take that fire crotch disgrace with you. I am sure they cater to no-good weasels as well."

"Malfoy, you are positively vile," Hermione said, shooting daggers in his direction. Narcissa Malfoy stepped out from behind her son and walked toward Hermione, her gloved hands smoothing down her coat in regality.

"You will not insult my son. He is above you, as is most of this alley. You will do well to keep your words to yourself it you know what is good for you," she said. She then put her lips close to her ear, Hermione's hair lightly grazing her cheek. "You are nothing," she whispered. Hermione felt her face get hot as tears began to blur her vision. She then stepped away from her and back toward her son. "Come, Draco," she said as she pulled the fabric off of Draco and tossed it on the ground. "We will get your robes from Twilfitt and Tatting's. Now that we know what sort of filth shops here." And with that, the two blondes exited the shop with another bright tinkling of the bell.

Madame Malkin stood in the middle of the room, positively frozen from what she had just witness. She shook her head and hobbled toward the three. "Oh, goodness! I apologize for those people. Some people are just nasty. I am not upset one bit that I lost their business. Here my dear," she said as she reached her hand out for Hermione. "I have just the pretty thing that you need to perk you right up." Hermione wiped her eyes and let the woman lead to toward the pink dress in the back.

"I can't believe Malfoy," Ron said, his knuckled turning white as he wrung the bottom of his shirt in his hands. "Such a prat. Pure-blood or not, he's the dirtiest scoundrel I know. I wish I could just—"

"Ron, don't even think about him. He is not worth the energy," Hermione said softly as they walked toward Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. She was grabbed by an enormous sign hanging on the outside window that almost made her chuckle.

WHY ARE YOU WORRYING ABOUT YOU-KNOW-WHO? YOU SHOULD BE WORRIED ABOUT U-NO-POO! THE CONSTIPATION SENSATION THAT'S GRIPPING THE NATION!

Ron laughed. "Maybe we could drop of few of those in that wanker's pumpkin juice at the start of term feast! Watch his face turn purple with being even fuller of shit than he usually is." Hermione rolled her eyes.

She disliked Draco so much. To the moon and back. If the world could have an enema, he and his pure-blood prejudiced family would be the first ones flushed down the drain. But she honestly could not do it anymore. She had no energy left to spend on her feud with a narrow-minded, intolerant chauvinist when there was a war going on. Her brain was stuck and it was not wise to let it wander to some schoolyard quarrel when there were people dying. When she could die.

She felt so lonely in her own head. Like nobody could really understand the things she felt, so she dealt with them on her own. Harry obviously had his mind on his own troubles, being the Chosen One and all, having the weight of the world on his shoulders, the one who would save them all. But at least people looked to him. He was a beacon of hope to everyone, even to her. What was she? His sidekick. Just the clever muggle-born girl who stood beside him and whispered ideas in his ear. That was just it. A muggle-born. A mudblood. Not too long from now, she would be an outcast, not even allowed to attend school or even be around others of a purer blood status. She was just waiting for the day until she was nothing more than an animal, only belonging in a cage and drowned when they felt the time was right. Harry was a face of hope. She was a face of problems. The reason there was a war in the first place. Or that's how she felt at least.

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><p>She sat down beside Ron in the prefect's car and opened her book again, the book from which she felt guilt and pleasure all at the same time. She felt like if she read one more sentence about Dark Magic her eyes might split open and leave her blind for the rest of her life. So she settled on fairy tales for the time being. It was a nice escape from the dread of the world all around her. Ron glanced over her shoulder to see what she was reading, and his closeness made her stomach jump.<p>

"What's that you're reading? Hogwarts: A History for the eleventh time?" He joked. Hermione chuckled under her breath.

"Not this time. It's Grimm's book of fairy tales. This one I'm reading is called Fundevogel."

"Fun boggle?" Ron said as he continued to read over her shoulder. Hermione scooted to face him.

"No, Ron," she giggled. "Fundevogel. It's about these two children who were so in love with each other," Hermione began, but then she paused, as if she were being sucked into a trance.

"And what happens to them? Do they die like in that other story you told me about. Frolo and Julie?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. Not like Romeo and Juliet. They live happily ever after," she said quietly. Happily ever after. She wished those words could be spoken about real life instead of just in silly stories that make no sense when you read them out loud. Hermione never wished she could live happily ever after. Maybe when she was a girl, but not now. Now she just wished she could live. She wished she could live past this war and have the possibility of happiness untainted by the constant threat of fear and death. Just bliss.

Her thought was cut short by a curt snort.

"Reading silly fairy tales, Granger?" A nasally voice met her ears as the scent of black cherries filled her nose. Pansy Parkinson was standing in front of her with her hands on her hips. "You're better off kissing frogs than wishing for your prince to come. Ha!" She laughed. "A prince for Granger! I never thought I would hear such a joke!" She said as she skipped out of the car and into the hallway to start her round of patrols. Ron put a hand on her back and rubbed her thumb along the stitches of her sweater.

"I don't think fairy tales are silly, Hermione. It's much nicer than what's going on in the world right now," Ron said as he continued to stroke her back. Hermione shoved the book back into her bag violently, then ripped out a different book. This one was dark brown and did not have the same swirly girl lettering as the previous one. "What are you reading now?" Ron said softly.

"Hogwarts: A History. For the eleventh time." She could practically recite the entire book word for word, but she figured that blatant facts written down on a piece of paper are better suited for her than ideas that make her mind wander. This way she would still be sitting on this seat beside Ron on her way to Hogwarts instead of in the clouds, dreaming of a far off land where magic had completely different principles and nobody knew who she was.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>So there was chapter 2. I hope it is all meeting your expectations. I don't want to rush into anything here. I am going to take my time and let everything pan out like it should. After all, Rome wasn't built in a day. Love you all:)


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** Hi all! So I must say, out of all the chapters so far, this one was my favorite to write for some reason. Enjoy!

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><p><strong>3.<strong>

_Just as a snake sheds its skin, we must shed our past over and over again._

Two feminine shadows appeared along a riverbed out of a wisp of thin air. One with long flowing blonde hair, glinting in the light of the crescent moon, the other with untamed black curls covering her face as she drew up her hood, trotting behind her sister and making hissing noises as she followed.

"Cissy, please listen to me!" Bellatrix whispered as they climbed a mossy hill as lights from houses began to emanate through the darkness.

"Bella, turn back. I have told you already—"

"We can't trust him!"

"The Dark Lord trusts him," Narcissa said as she peered around a corner into an alley. Bellatrix huffed.

"I think he is mistaken about—"

"You dare question The Dark Lord's judgment?" Narcissa whipped her head around quickly and met Bellatrix's eyes. She once saw life and joy when they were children, but now she just saw nothing. Nothing but hate and death. Her eyes were like black holes, extinguishing any light that ever could meet them. Bellatrix snapped her mouth shut and looked at the ground, as if Voldemort were right beside her, pondering the words that had just been made. "I have made my decision," Narcissa continued. "He is the only one who will be close enough to Draco to aid him, and I don't care whether or not you trust him. I need my son to be safe." She turned and headed down a street, only one street lamp for a lighted path.

"He will be safe. At the Dark Lord's side once his task is complete!" Bellatrix said.

"And what about before that, before he completes this 'task' of his? What if he gets caught, or is challenged to a duel, or—" Narcissa hesitated.

"Or what if he's overcome by his cowardice?" Bellatrix finished for her. Narcissa's jaw tightened at her sister's remark. "I have known it for a while now, Cissy," she said as she began to circle her. "While Draco was blessed with the good looks from our side of the family, he has been cursed with the same spinelessness as your rotten, simple-minded husband." Narcissa opened her mouth to protest. "And don't even try and defend Lucius. I'm no fool, Narcissa. I know you can't stand the very sight of that no-good, putrid slug." Narcissa pursed lips at her sister's hot breath.

"I love Lucius, Bella."

"Oh, please. You might have loved him once, if only for the sake of his blood status. After seeing what happened to Andromeda after she married that _thing_, you needed to keep your line pure. You don't love him. Not now. Now you barely even pity him. To you, he's like a cur that lies in the middle of the road after being hit by a car, his entrails spilling out onto the pavement, still barely alive, looking at you with glassy eyes as you try and swallow down the vomit." Narcissa turned quickly and trotted down the street quickly. She made sure her heels clicked just so to hide a small sniffle as she approached a dim-lit house at the end of the road. She could feel her sister still behind her. "And if you ask me," she continued as she whispered closely to Narcissa's ear, "I think you've gotten soft! I was in Azkaban for more than a decade while you were in your proper little home playing house, ignoring your duties as a follower of the Dark Lord." _I was never a follower_, Narcissa thought. "You will never be like me and Rodolphus. We were ready to return to his side all along! No, you will never be like—"

"I don't ever want to be like you," she snapped coldly. "Now," she said as she straightened out her coat. "You will be leaving this instant unless you intend to help my son. Otherwise, you will keep your mouth shut or I will curse you myself," Narcissa said harshly as she tapped lightly on the large oak door. Bellatrix snarled and sneaked her hand into her coat to retrieve her wand. The door creaked open slowly to reveal a tall man with a pointed nose, appearing much thinner as he was silhouetted by the darkness.

"Good evening, Narcissa," Severus Snape said as he bowed his head in her direction. "Wands away, Bellatrix, if you intend to enter my home." Bellatrix snarled again as she took her hand out of her coat. They stepped inside, brushing past Snape as he closed the door behind them. He led them into a room that was adorned with books all along the walls, which was lit only by a fire that burned in a hearth which was carved cozily into a bookcase.

"We are sorry to impose on your evening like this, Severus," Narcissa began.

"I'm not sorry," Bellatrix interrupted. Narcissa shot her a deathly glare as she strolled around the room, fingering items here and there.

"Severus, I know I ought not to be here. I have been forbidden to speak a word of it, but—"

"Then you ought to hold your tongue!" Bellatrix snapped at her. "Especially in present company." Snape raised an eyebrow in her direction.

"Present company? Are you implying that I am not to be trusted, Bellatrix?" Snape said coolly.

"That is exactly what I am saying. You think I am a moron, Severus Snape? You expect me to believe that you are loyal to the Dark Lord while you traipse around Hogwarts playing the lapdog to that silver-bearded buffoon? I see you, Severus. I see you clear as day, and no. I do not trust you." Snape handed Narcissa a glass of wine as he twirled his own around in his hand.

"You do make a point, Bellatrix. However, to question my trustworthiness is to question the Dark Lord's judgment, and I hardly believe that he would take your suspicions as lightly as I am right now." Bellatrix took a step back, but held her gaze with his. He looked away from her and looked back on Narcissa.

"It is true that you are not to breathe a word about what the Dark Lord has said. But as it happens, I am aware of your situation and the task that the Dark Lord has impressed upon Draco. If you have come to ask for my help, it would be a wasted effort. I cannot, nor can anyone, change his mind once he has made it. The task he has asked Draco to perform must be upheld." Snape said as Narcissa looked down to the ground, possibly holding back a tear, or possibly just pondering her next move.

"There must be something, Severus. Something you can do. He is only a boy. Barely even sixteen. My only son. Please, Severus."

Snape stood there quiet for a moment. "It might be possible… for me to help Draco," he finally said. Narcissa's face became paler than her usual shade of pristine snow.

"Oh, Severus!" she cried. "You would help him? You would look after him, see that he comes to no harm?"

"I can try," he said dryly. Narcissa threw her wine glass away in desperation and kneeled at his feet, kissing his hand in gratitude. Then a hiss came from the other side of the room.

"Make the Unbreakable Vow."

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><p>The wisp of light that knotted itself around their wrists had dissipated, leaving Narcissa's arm tingling. She lingered in Snape's grasp for a moment, almost perplexed, and then he ripped away from her grip.<p>

"Alright. Is that all then?" Snape said, turning quickly away from her as began examining something on the bookshelf. Narcissa hesitated for a moment.

"Actually, not quite, Severus. I must speak with you about another matter. Privately." She directed this to her sister, who shrugged one shoulder and did not move from where she was standing.

"Bellatrix, leave this room," Snape said coldly. Bellatrix opened her mouth the object. "Now." She scoffed and left the room slowly, eyeing him as she left, piercing his with daggers. "What is it that you could not possibly say in front of your understanding and forgiving sister, Narcissa?" He said with his back still turned to her. He heard a small sob come from her, and when he turned he saw that she had her wand out and a tear was running down her face. "Why are you—"

"I just hate those filthy mudbloods," she said, wrinkling her nose. Then she flicked her wrist, and a thin shiny film covered the door in a see-through sheet. She had cast a Silencing Charm on them. She then wiped her nose with a handkerchief as she stuffed her wand away.

"Don't use that word in my presence," he said sharply.

"I'm sorry, Severus. I just knew Bella was listening and—" she stopped as another sob escaped from her throat and more tears dripped down her porcelain cheeks. Snape walked over to her and put his arms around her, pulling her closely to him. He had never been an affectionate man, but something about Narcissa, weeping for unknown reasons before him in the middle of his study, moved him to embrace her. As he held her, he felt her head tilt up, her sticky, moist cheek rub against his, and a pair of lips grazing his own. He released her quickly, not wanting to give in to the temptation that had just brushed the sensitive skin of his mouth and reciprocate her actions.

"Don't," he said distantly, turning away from her once more.

"I'm sorry," she said meekly as she tugged at the seam of her coat, like an embarassed little girl. "I'm just being silly. Lucius has not touched me in months and I—" Snape held up his hand to silence her.

"Please, Narcissa. Just don't." It was silent for a moment, the two of them just standing in the air that had now become so thick with shame and awkwardness.

"It was that muggle-born girl, wasn't it, Severus?" Narcissa finally said. Snape did not look to her, but his shoulders tensed at her words. "What was her name? Lily, was it? She was a very pretty thing." Narcissa dabbed her nose again.

"You know nothing," Snape said softly.

"Oh, I know enough. I know that you were very fond of her. Probably even loved her." Snape turned around quickly, and before she could even take a step back, he had his hand around her throat. He picked her up off the ground and slammed her into the bookcase as she clawed at his grip.

"You will shut your filthy mouth, Narcissa. I will not have the Dark Lord hearing such disgusting rumors about his most loyal disciple. Merlin, help me, I will blow you to bits and there will be nothing left for your family to bury." He loosened his grip when he heard her gurgle for air. His knuckled has turned white.

"Severus, you must know I would never…" she took a gasp of air and coughed, recovering from the vice she was just in. "I would never tell. In all honestly, that is the very reason why I trust you. And why only you can help me."

"I have already made the vow to keep your son safe," Snape said indifferently. Narcissa just shook her head.

"This is not about his safety. At least, not directly. Severus, I looked into my son's eyes last night. Do you want to know what I saw?" Snape looked down at her emotionlessly. "I fear that I saw nothing. There might have been something there, some small glimmer of emotion, but I'm afraid that whatever he still has left, it will be snuffed. Severus, I cannot stand by and let my son's humanity be torn down by this monstrosity."

"Are you calling the Dark Lord a monster?"

She hesitated, trying to gather her thoughts. "No. Not at all. No. But the world he has been forced into, that his father's mistakes have forced him into, it will undoubtedly kill him. And if it does not kill him, then he will be just like her," she said as she pointed toward the door. "Just like that _monster_ right outside that door. Severus, please. I love my son. I would much rather him die with his dignity and humanity and with _love_ in his heart than live at the Dark Lord's side as just a shell of a person, with no human emotion left in his entire body." Snape's icy façade had thawed somewhat as he looked upon her. "I look at my sister and I am terrified. I don't want to look at my son and feel the same way. Please." She began crying again as she headed toward the door to exit, when a hand touched her shoulder.

"I do not see how I can fulfill this request you have asked of me, and the task that has been given to Draco still stands," Snape said as Narcissa looked down to the floor. He rubbed the back of his hand on her cheek. "But I will do everything in my power to save his soul." Narcissa let out a relived sigh as she embraced him one last time. "Now, wipe your face and straighten up. Do not let Bellatrix see that you had a moment of weakness." She wiped her eyes and smiled, then quickly exited the house at the end of the street at Spinner's End.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>So did you enjoy it as much as I did? Yes, I am aware it is slow going, but I am pulling out all the stops for this one. So now you know the things Narcissa is feeling and how conflicted she is. Oh, goodness, it's all just so much! If you liked it and want more, please follow, favorite, and review! Thanks guys! Love you all!


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note**: Hi everyone! Here is Chapter 4! It is a tad bit shorter than the last few, but still worth it. Please enjoy!

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><p><strong>4.<strong>

_A wise woman wishes to be no one's enemy; a wise woman refuses to be anyone's victim._

Draco stood in the middle of the Great Hall, which had transformed into a wonderland of wintery elegance the night before the Christmas holidays began. He was still in the crowd while the band on stage played one of their most popular songs, something with an upbeat tune that was a favorite among the girls in the room, all of them squealing and making noises so high-pitched that he wondered if even a dog's ears could hear them. He winced as a small, red-haired Hufflepuff girl pushed her way through the sea of people and let out a wail right next to his head as one of the band members flipped his guitar behind his head and played a quite impressive solo. Or at least it would have been impressive if he could have heard it, if his ear had not practically started bleeding from going deaf from that daft imp of a girl that now stood beside him. He shoved his way toward the back of the crowd, intent on getting some punch (wishing for something stronger), then hoping to leave the entire scene without being spotted. He nearly made it out of the crowd when he felt a tickle as a fingernail gently grazed the nape of his neck ever so slightly. Chills shot through his body and his hairs stood up on end. His hand shot up to the spot to rub the tickle away, but the fingernail continued to brush him, and grabbed his fingers in a smooth grip. He turned around and saw a tall, slender blonde in a long silvery metallic dress that clung to her figure as it draped over her bony shoulders. Daphne Greengrass put her hand on Draco's shoulder as she gripped his hand tighter.

"Let's dance, Draco," she said softly as she moved her body closer to his. He could feel her breath on his skin, and his hair stood up once more. He made a move to pull away.

"I was just getting punch," he said flatly, wiggling his shoulder out from underneath her hand. He began to turn around when she pulled him toward her again. Daphne was usually gentle, but tonight she was being uncharacteristically aggressive.

"I asked for a dance, Draco." At this, Draco scoffed at her, hoping she'd get the hint easily.

"And of course, Daphne gets everything she asks for, naturally." She rolled her eyes at him, still not letting him go, despite his resistance.

"I would disagree with you," she began, "but like you said, naturally, I always do." She said this last part dangerously close to his ear, her lips brushing his earlobe gently. Draco felt his face get hot as he ripped away from her. He turned around to walk away, but then was blinded by something wet, cold and sticky thrown in his face. Pansy Parkinson stood in front of him with a now empty glass of punch in her hand. She hiccupped and then started pounding Draco on the chest in anger.

"You are supposed to be my date!" She said, her words just barely slurred, the smell of fire whisky faintly on her breath. Draco looked at the small bag that dangled from her arm and noticed the neck of a small flask sticking out. He managed to grab her wrists, ceasing her flailing arms from hitting him, when she turned her attention to Daphne. "He's my date, you filthy slut! There are plenty of other blokes here for you to wave your smelly twat around!" Daphne's mouth dropped in fury.

"Excuse me?" She said, as if maybe she heard wrong over the blaring music.

"I said," Pansy yelled through another hiccup, "you've got a smelly twat, you rotten—" She was cut off by a brisk slap in the face. Pansy stood there, slightly wobbly, and stunned.

"I will not be insulted by a pug-face like you, Parkinson," Daphne said as she brushed a hand down her dress. "You miserable, drunken mess. Come on, Draco." She laced her arm around Draco as Pansy let out an angry wail and stormed off. Draco wriggled free of Daphne's hold and walked quickly out of the Great Hall, wanting so badly to be away from those two looneys. He considered both of them to be rather classless.

He slunk around the corner when he saw a flash of pink running down the corridor past him. He saw the back of her first. Light brown hair in soft ringlets falling down her back, a dress that, now that he looked at it properly, was more of a shade of amaranth than pink, fell gently over her slender waste and picked up toward the bottom, giving her a shapely feel. Her skin was a light olive, supple and smooth looking, with light freckling on her shoulders. She reminded him of a painting. He heard a small gasp from her a recognized she was crying as she headed up a flight of stairs, her heels clicking and echoing on the walls. She looked beautiful from behind. He clung to a wall, begging her to turn around so he could see her. So he could match a face to this stunning figure he had secretly been watching. _Please turn around._

"Wait!" He heard someone call from the other end of the corridor, a deep, stern voice. He wanted to turn to see who it was calling after her, but his eyes were fixed. _Turn around_. Heavy footsteps trudged past him as they pursued the girl. Draco could tell from the dark red, wool outfit he was wearing that he was one of the boys from Durmstrang. Could this girl be from Beauxbatons, then? "Please, wait," he said again. Draco saw the silhouette of his face. Viktor Krum.

His stomach turned. He was never one to fawn over celebrities. Being of such high status in the wizarding world had its perks, after all. Sharing boxes at sporting events with the Minister of Magic, sitting at the same table with some of the most famous witches and wizards of the age. But Viktor Krum, even if he did lose the Quidditch World Cup for Bulgaria over the summer, was definitely one of Draco's idols, though he would rarely admit it. Krum grabbed her around the waist before she got to far up the stairs. She covered her hands over her face, shielding her tears from him. "Tell me why you are crying?" Krum said in his thick accent. He removed her hands from her face slowly, but them Krum sidestepped in front of her, obstructing Draco's view of her. He was starting to get irritated. He wanted so badly to see her from the front. The girl choked out a sob, trying to manage to make a few words, but nothing came out but a wet gurgling sound. "It's not me, is it?" The girl shook her head.

"I think I just want to go to bed, Viktor," she finally managed to say. Her voice sounded so familiar. Did Draco know her? "It has just been a stressful week." Krum nodded in understanding as he bowed, kissing her palm. It was as he did this that her face was unmasked. At first, Draco could not place her. She definitely looked familiar, but he was sure he would remember such a face as her. Smooth skin, rosy cheeks that were somewhat blotchy from crying, the gentle curve of her jaw, the defining dent of her collar bone. Krum walked away from her and another voice came from behind him, calling out her name as she fled up the staircase, one that belonged to a certain airheaded Weasley, and that was when he realized exactly who he had been admiring.

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><p>He felt vomit rise up as Potter and Weasley barreled through the door of the Potions classroom. They were so buffoonish and uncoordinated, with complete disregard to poise and composure. That's how Draco always held himself. Perfectly straight, stoic, and always composed. He rolled his eyes as they apologized to Professor Slughorn and made their way to the group as they all stoop behind a table that held numerous vials of different colored concoctions. Ron stood beside Hermione. Draco watched as she her body stiffened ever so slightly. She locked her knees and gently stroked her hair, wrapping her arms even tighter around her books she held against her chest. She leaned slightly in his direction, getting as close to him as possible without actually touching, except maybe brushing his arm with a loose thread from her sweater. Draco scoffed as an uncomfortable feeling arose in his stomach. He could not place it. Was it jealousy? No. Not a chance. Not a snowball's chance in hell.<p>

"Who would like to come up here and tell me what these potions are on this table, hmm?" Professor Slughorn sang to the group. Of course, Hermione's arm shot up. Slughorn smiled and gestured her forward. Draco imitated her eagerness with a mocking, silly look on his face, raising his hand and pretending to flip a mane of bushy hair over his shoulder.

"This one is Veritaserum," she began. "It's a truth telling serum."

Draco lowered his voice so only his friends could hear him, but made sure he was just loud enough for Harry and Ron to hear his remarks. "That mudblood is a bloody mess, and that's the _truth_." His friends chortled as Ron clenched his fists, but did not turn around.

"This one is Amortentia. The strongest love potion in the world," she continued.

"There's no potion strong enough to make anyone love that hideous thing," Draco said. Ron's knuckles started turning white.

"It's rumored to smell differently to each person according to what attracts them."

"The only thing she can attract is flies." Draco laughed as one of his friends clapped him on the back.

"That's it!" Ron shouted. He turned around and punched Draco square in the jaw, knocking him back a few feet. Draco tore his wand from his robes and before Ron could even reach for his, Draco hit him with a flash of blue light that sent him hurling across the room and smashing into a cabinet, vials of potions and jars of ingredients crashing to the ground and spilling all over the floor. Ron's head lolled to the side as the class moved out of the way. Harry then pointed his wand straight at Draco.

"Stop that this minute!" Professor Slughorn shouted. Hermione's face turned white as she saw Ron leaning against the smashed cupboard. She ran over to him and brushed his cheek. The feeling in Draco's stomach moved up into his throat as his temple throbbed. "Wands away! Both of you!" He said to both Harry and Draco as they hesitated, but eventually lowered their wands. "Thirty points from Slytherin! And twenty points from Gryffindor!"

"Thirty points? He hit me first! I was only acting in self -defense!" Draco shouted.

"You think I did not hear your remarks about Miss Granger, Malfoy?" Draco straightened up as Hermione turned her head slowly to look at him. Draco's face was like stone. "In fact, I think fifty points would be a better suited deduction for such ugly comments." Draco opened his mouth to protest but Slughorn cut him off once more. "And I think few evenings worth of detentions would serve you well also." Hermione whipped her head back toward Ron, hiding the wetness that had sprung up into her eyes. She begged herself not to let a tear fall. Not to give Malfoy the satisfaction. She helped Ron to his feet, and without even excusing herself, she half-carried him out the door toward the hospital wing, leaving her classmates and that dreadful Draco Malfoy behind her.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>So there you have it. Sorry it took a while. Let me tell you, it was a crazy week at work. Working in a Cardiac ICU, I see my fair share of awful things, and this week in particular was very trying. I am glad I found some time to write and just escape from the heartbreak for a while. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please remember to follow, favorite and review!


	5. Chapter 5

**_Author's_**_ Note:_ Yay! Chapter 5!**  
><strong>

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><p><strong>5.<strong>

"Slimy git," Ron said as he began bearing more of his own weight. Hermione was grateful for this, since she felt like her shoulder was about to give out from partially carrying him up the staircases from the dungeons. However, she liked the silence as Ron was still fighting toward full-consciousness, focusing more on keeping his head level than making words. Hermione rolled her eyes. "Foul, slimy git," he said again.

"You've said that once, Ron." Hermione said, looking straight ahead as they continued down the corridor.

"I did? Hmm. My head hurts." He reached his hand to the back of his head slowly and felt wetness. His hand was sticky with a coat of blood. Hermione looked at his hand, and then examined the back of his head. His fiery red hair was caked with a layer of matted blood. She ran her fingers through it, trying to find the source.

"You're bleeding, Ron," she said, still combing through his hair. She found the source of the bleeding, and noticed it was barely even a cut, but just bled like a stuck pig. "It doesn't look bad. Does it hurt?" Ron did not answer her. She looked at his face and noticed he had gone completely white. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he began to tilt forward. Hermione caught him quickly. Her arms burned as she attempted to lower him slowly to the floor. She noticed that over the year he had filled out, tall, broad shoulders, barrel-chested and strong arms, but she never imagined how ridiculously heavy he was as dead weight. She managed to safely get his unconscious body to the floor, and then she took out her wand, pointed it at him and muttered 'Levicorpus.'

She was relieved, in a sense, for the silence once more. She knew had he remained conscious, that he would have continued to talk about Malfoy, that slimy git. It was true that she loathed him, despised him, but it got to the point where it drained her, the constant hatred between them made her feel less alive than usual. She preferred to act like he did not exist. She had made an art form out of ignoring his presence, to wear the sound of his voice had just become like a dull humming noise. As she held her wand in the air, levitating Ron closer toward the hospital wing, she felt something fall on her cheek. A tear? She wiped it away quickly. There was no room for silly tears during a war.

They made it to the hospital wing and Hermione lowered him onto one of the empty beds. It was quiet there. Since it was the first school day, not many people had much time to get sick or hurt themselves only having been at Hogwarts for a day and a half. Only two beds were occupied, one by a boy who looked like a first year who had his head in a bucket, making awful retching sounds. Hermione bet herself that he had eaten some of the grey mush at the start of term feast, a dish that everyone learned to steer clear of at one point during their schooling. On the second bed, sitting at the edge and fiddling with a bandage on his left wrist, was someone Hermione recognized. Sandy blonde curls that looped around his ears, chiseled jaw bone, emerald eyes, and an expression of arrogance that he never seemed to be able to wash his face of. He lifted his head to see her.

"Hello, Hermione," he said with a sly smile. Hermione made a point not to look at him straight on.

"Good morning, Cormac," she said. Her eyes drifted to the dressing on his arm. She hesitated for a moment, then pointed to it. "What happened?" Comrac McLaggen shrugged his shoulders.

"Nothing really. My father and I were out hunting with the Minister over the holidays. Did you know there are Graphorns in the Highlands of Scotland? Well, we came across one, and it charged at my father," he began, using his hands in very animated fashion to tell his story. "Its horn clipped my father's pack, sending him into the air. Naturally, I tore out my wand and started firing spells at the beast." Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"A graphorn? Wow, what spell did you use to take it down?" Hermione said, pretending to be interested. Cormac gave a chuckle.

"I used Confringo," he said, raising his eyebrows haughtily.

"Hmm," Hermione began, looking puzzled. "That's interesting, considering Graphorn skin is tough and propels most rudimentary spells such as Confringo." She gave him a very perplexed look. Cormac stuttered for a moment.

"Yes, of course. The Confringo curse bounced off of its skin, naturally, and richoted onto the wall of rock next to us. The blast cause the rock face to crumble, and the Graphorn was crushed." He smiled again, thinking he had recovered quite nicely. Hermione nodded her head.

"I hope your father is alright," she said, sounding concerned. Cormac nodded.

"Oh, yeah. Just a few lumps and bruises, but he was just fine. I got the most of it," he said, holding up his arm. "One of the rocks from the blast did this to me." Just then, Madame Pomfrey trotted out from the back of the room, stirring something in a small bowl and heading toward the vomiting first year. She looked to Hermione as she spoon fed it to the boy in between retches.

"May I help you, Miss Granger?" She said sweetly.

"Ron his hit head. He's alright, I think. Just passed out at the sight of blood," she said. Madame Pomfrey nodded. Cormac scoffed under his breath, implying that fainting at the sight of blood was much less than manly. Hermione's eyes shot to him.

"Mister McLaggen," Madame Pomfrey said as she walked over toward Ron. "I think you are fine to leave. Leave that dressing on for the next day or so, and then you will be perfectly healed." Cormac stood up slowly, acting as if he was stiff and sore from his battle with a vicious beast. "And remember, no more running into walls, you silly thing!"

Hermione looked at him and laughed. Cormac's face turned a bright shade of red as his story was completely blown.

"Thank you, Madame Pomfrey," Hermione said, and she headed out of the hospital wing and to her next class. Double Defense Against the Dark Arts with the Slytherins.

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><p>Hermione was early. The door creaked open and the room was completely empty. She assumed that Potions had run a bit late, since there was nobody in sight yet. She picked a seat next to the wall close to the front of the class and saved the seat next to her for Harry. She opened her textbook and read until more students began filing in and filling the seats around the room. Once everyone was seated, Snape strolled in and whipped his robe around as he faced the class, a dramatic entrance he always made at the start of a class.<p>

Today's lesson was going to be nonverbal spell casting. Hermione elbowed Harry, signaling that she wanted him to be her partner. Usually, Harry and Ron partnered together when they practiced spells and she partnered with Parvati or another girl, but seeing as Ron was not here, she chose Harry.

"We will be partnering up today to practice your nonverbal spells," Snape said. He scanned the room as it was evident that everyone had already had an idea who they would partner with, whispering and locking arms with each other. He smiled, knowing he was going to cause disappointment. "But you will not be picking your partner." The entire class groaned in contempt. "I will be pairing you up because all the giddiness is making me nauseated." He turned his nose up as he brought his fingers to his chin. "Potter," she said, scanning the room for an interesting pairing. "You'll be with Crabbe." Both of them moaned and protested, but Snape continued with his pairings, as if he did not even hear. Hermione wondered who she might get paired with. She would prefer not to be with any Slytherin, but she supposed Daphne Greengrass would be the most tolerable. "Patil and Brown." Parvati and Lavender squealed with joy. "Zabini and Goyle." Draco looked around him. All of his first choices had been paired already. All that was left was Pansy, and though they were good friends, he did not feel like dealing with her mindless chatter and gossip this morning. "Malfoy," Snape began. He hesitated for a moment as he scanned the room once again. Hermione wanted him to look right past her and pick anybody else but her, But his gaze rested on her and he gave a sick smile. "and Granger." Hermione buried her head in her arms.

"Not a chance!" Draco said loudly. "You're out of your damn mind if you think I'm going to be partners with her!" Snape crossed his arms and looked upon him.

"You will mind your tongue in my classroom, Draco. Unless you wish to spend another week in detention," Snape said. Draco rolled his eyes. "My decision stands. No switching."

"This is bloody ridiculous," Draco said under his breath. Hermione looked at him from the corner of her eye. He slumped over in his chair and drummed his fingers on the desk. His neck and face looked red, like he was about to boil over. Once Snape was finished partnering the class up, he instructed which spells to practice first, then allowed the class to break off and begin. Hermione stood up, straightened out her skirt, and strolled tall toward Malfoy. He was talking with Blaise Zabini and Goyle, utterly ignorning her presence. Hermione cleared her throat. He did not pay attention.

"I would like to get started, if you don't mind," she said sternly, her arms crossed closely across her chest, her wand gripped tightly in her hand.

"Granger, get the hell away from me. We are not partners," he said, waving his hand at her. Blaise and Goyle laughed.

"Malfoy, I don't like this just as much as you but I will not get a zero on today's assignment just because—" Malfoy cut her off with a high-pitched annoying voice.

"Malfoy, I will NOT get a zero, blah blah blah," he said, mocking her in a nasally, irritating tone. His friends laughed even harder. "Honestly Granger, I would never stoop so low as to practice defensive spells with the likes of you." Hermione felt her face become hot and he fingers tingled with building up energy.

"Fine," she said, forcefully. "You don't have to practice with me. But I am definitely going to practice with you." Malfoy turned toward her to say something else insulting, but could not say a word before a stream of green light shot out of her wand and hit him square in the chest, sending his soaring backward and knocking down both of his friends in his trajectory. He stood up and ripped his wand from his robes. Hermione kept her aim. Draco began to incant a spell when Snape shouted from the front of the classroom.

"Nonverbal, Mister Malfoy!" Hermione raised her eyebrow mockingly. Draco swore under his breath, and made an attempt to cast a spell without an incantation. Hermione laughed as she saw a vein in his temple pulsing. She finally had the upper hand over him.

"No, no, no, Mister Malfoy," she said, sweetly. "Do it like this!" She flicked her wrist slightly and another burst of light shot from her wand and hit him, this time in the shoulder, bouncing off his cheek and leaving a small burn on his face. Blaise and Goyle backed up, no longer seeing this as amusing. Draco was practically on fire with fury now. He made a grunting noise, still attempting a verbal spell, but after a few seconds of exasperation, the spell came pouring over his lips.

"Deprimo!" He shouted. Hermione attempted to deflect it, but it broke right through her shieild charm. Hermione's face turned white. She looked panicked and then began to scream as downward pressure was being exerted on her body. She felt her legs beginning to warp. The pain was growing worse and worse, then became unbearable when she heard two distinct snaps. The pressure had now caused her legs to break underneath her. She cried out in pain as all the blood felt like it completely left her body and went straight to her legs. Everybody cleared away from her as Snape rushed over.

"Potter," he called over. "Take her to the hospital wing. She will need her bones mended." Harry shoved his wand in his pocket and picked her up off the floor, draping her arms over his shoulder and scooping her up. Snape looked at Draco. "Another week of detention." Draco did not argue. Instead, he gathered his books in his shoulder bag and stormed out of the room, the sounding of cracking echoing around in his ears.

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><p><em><strong>Author's<strong>_ **Note:** So there it was. I am trying to go slowly. I want this to be a nice, long, believable thing. And we all know how stubborn both Hermione and Draco can be. So why rush it? It was a decent week. Nobody died at work. So that's good. Anyway, keep an eye out for the next chapter and remember to follow, favorite and review!


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** Pretty excited about this one, folks! Enjoy!

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><p><strong>6.<strong>

Benny Gelson was a blonde boy with fair skin who always wore a knit vest over a button-up collared shirt and khaki pants. No matter what the day. Hermione was not sure if she loathed him or admired him. It was hard to tell when you were eleven years old and boys started to look cute instead of disgusting, and the rude things they said could actually mean that they like you. She sat against the fence in the midday sunshine that had just peeked out from behind the pearly clouds. Hermione loved books, but this one in particular, Grimm's Fairytales, was by far her favorite one. She dreamed of one day being a princess, not because princesses were beautiful and married the handsome prince, but because they were important, and had the ability to lead and change the world. She was quite ahead of her time, her teachers would tell you. Most of the girls wanted to be fashion designers or singers when they grew up, but Hermione wanted to be a diplomat.

She was about to turn the page when a shadow was cast by someone standing over her. Benny Gelson stood in front of her, two of his friends on either side of him. He had his arms crossed over his green argyle vest. Hermione looked up at him, squinting as the sunlight draped him in a silhouette.

"What's that you're reading, Hermione?" Benny said, snatching the book from her hands. Hermione squealed in protest.

"Stop it, Benny! That's my favorite book!" Benny held the book up in the air from the page she had just finished reading. She could hear a faint rip. "You'll ruin it!" She swiped at the book, trying to regain it in her grasp, but Benny held it higher in the air above her head. She jumped, trying to grab it from him. The page ripped even more, and eventually the book fell to the ground while Benny still held the torn page in his fist, laughing. Hermione scrambled to the ground to recover her book, and snatched the torn page from him, tears in her eyes. "I told you that you would ruin it," she mumbled as she held the book close to her chest. Benny continued to laugh.

"Well, maybe that will teach you a lesson! Don't read silly books!" Hermione's vision became blurred with tears as she stared at him. She felt her entire body tingle and her face become red hot. She started to shake as she watched him laugh at her. Her ears started buzzing, but she thought she heard him say the word 'freak.' The next thing she knew, Benny was on the ground, screaming and writhing, holding his hands to his head, digging his fingers into his scalp. Hermione wiped the blurry tears from her eyes and saw something very strange happen in front of her. Benny Gelson's blonde hair was taking form on the top of his head, weaving upon itself and hardening. Hermione was petrified once she saw that his hair was not hair anymore. It had transformed into antlers. The teachers ran over to him and when they saw what had happened, they both shrieked. When they finally managed to ask what happened, Benny's two friends didn't say a word, but pointed at Hermione, absolutely terrified.

"Hermione Jean Granger," her mother said, "I don't know what we are going to do with you. This is the third time this has happened! How are we going to send you to school now? Nobody will ever take you now that you've been expelled from school twice. I just don't even know." Hermione started to cry as she nibbled on her sandwich.

"I didn't do anything though," she said meekly. Her mother rubbed her temple.

"Hermione," her mother said, looking her straight in the eye, "I don't understand it. But what else could it have been? Both those boys said you did that to Benny."

"It was like magic." Her mother let out a long sigh.

"Enough with the magic already! You need to start taking responsibility for things that you do, Hermione!" Hermione lowered her head and watched as tears spilled onto her plate. "I talked with your father this morning. We are going to take you to see a therapist on Tuesday. Try to figure things out." Hermione looked up with tear-stained eyes.

"You—you think I'm crazy?" She said softly, not wanting to believe what she had just heard.

"I'm not sure what I think anymore. This is just getting to be too much for me anymore." Her mother picked the mail up off the countertop and began to rifle through it, trying to give her mind something else to focus on besides her daughter in front of her, who was her treasure, but was obviously very troubled. There was a shoe catalog, a utility bill, credit card statements, a periodical, and then something very curious. A square letter with a red seal of a crest she did not recognize. The letter was addressed with swirly emerald calligraphy and she had to read it three times to understand it was addressed to her daughter. "Hmm," she said, interested. "This is for you. Must be an invitation to one of your friends' birthday parties or something," she said, handing the letter to Hermione.

"But I don't have any friends." She slid her fingernail along the edges of the letter, opening it carefully, and upon reading the first few sentences, she merely looked up at her mother and said, "I knew it." Her mother snatched the letter from her and scanned it, once, twice, three times with her mouth wide open. Hermione knew her mother would never believe, but as soon as she thought this, there was a faint knock at the door. Hermione jumped from her chair and ran for the door. She had a feeling whoever knocked had something to do with the letter she had just received. She opened the door and a tall man with a long silver beard stood on the front porch step, looking down at her from behind half-moon spectacles. He looked so out of place on her little street.

"Hello, Miss Granger," he said sweetly. He looked past her and saw her mother standing in the foyer, the letter still clutched in her hand. "And hello, Mrs. Granger. My name is Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. May I come in?" Hermione beamed up at him, opening the door wider as he stepped past her and into her house.

After buying all of the necessary school supplies, Hermione tore through her school books, being fascinated and in awe of the studies she would pursue in just less than a month. She devoured _Standard Book of Spells,_ _A Beginners Guide to Transfiguration_, and _Hogwarts: A History_. It was not until she opened the next book in her pile of texts, _A History of Magic_, that her all-too-familiar feeling of being an outsider once more loomed over her and came to rest in her gut. She lowered her head as she read the cruel sentences: '_Known as Death Eaters, the Dark Lord's followers targeted muggles and muggle-born witches and wizards, aiming to cleanse the world of a tainted race and build a society of pure-bloods where magic was unspoiled by any non-magical blood. There are many today, mostly aristocratic pure-blood families, who still hold these values, and although the Dark Lord was vanquished, still claim to be his followers and do his bidding._' For the first time since she received her letter, Hermione almost wished she had just remained a freak in her just her 'muggle' world instead of being one in her new magical world as well.

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><p>Hermione buried her face into Harry's neck, trying to stifle the cries that arose from her throat. Harry was practically running down the staircases from the third floor to make it to the hospital wing quickly. He could feel the shattered bones in her legs shifting with every step he took as he held her in his arms, which only made him go even faster. He nearly tripped on the very last step.<p>

"Don't you dare drop me, Harry Potter, or I will hex you into next week," Hermione managed to say between painful gasps. Harry did not say anything. His face was just as white as hers. "The pain is starting to decrease."

"That's good, right?" Hermione shook her head.

"I'm going into shock. How much farther?" She tucked her face back into his neck, wiping the sweat from her forehead on his skin.

"We're there, we're there," he said. Madame Pomfrey came running when she saw Harry carrying her into the hospital wing.

"Oh, dear!" She shrieked. "Right over here, Potter. Beside Weasley," she said as she ushered him over to an empty bed. At this point, Ron was awake and nearly ready to be dismissed from the hospital wing.

"She's—" Harry stumbled over his words, "she's going into shock, I think."

"I do not doubt that with breaks this bad," Madame Pomfrey said as she tore through a cabinet full of bottles and vials.

"Bloody hell!" Ron shouted. "What happened?" He sat on the side of the bed to get closer to Hermione, who was now on the edge of unconsciousness.

"Malfoy hexed her. I hadn't heard of the spell he used."

"Deprimo?" Madame Pomfrey questioned over her shoulder.

"Yeah, I think that was the one," Harry said. She nodded and pulled a bottle and a silver cup from the back of the cabinet.

"Luckily, it's an easy fix. Here, hold her head up," she said as she held a small cup with clear liquid to her lips. "This is dreamless sleep potion. Though the remedy for these breaks is quick, it's also pretty painful. Thank you, boys." This last thing she said was her polite way of telling them to get out, because Hermione just needed to rest now. Reluctantly, both Ron and Harry squeezed Hermione's hand and headed out of the hospital wing.

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><p>Snape grabbed Draco right before he muttered to password to reveal the secret passage that led to the common room. Draco hissed as Snape jerked him to face him.<p>

"You ought to be more careful," Snape said sharply.

"Careful? That mudblood got exactly what was coming to her. I'm sure if the Dark Lord had seen it, he would pat me on the back or give me a medal!" Draco said, his face inches from Snape's.

"Don't use that word."

"Or what? You will give me another week of detention? Big deal! A few nights of detention will mean nothing when I'm part of the ranks. What does he think of you, hmm? Waltzing around this castle, eating bon-bons and kissing Dumbledore's ass all day long? You're a bloody disgrace." Draco considered spitting in his face, but decided against it, knowing full well that Snape would not hesitate to punch him right in the jaw. He saw Snape's face turn pink with rage. Suddenly, Draco felt something snake around his throat and hoist him into the air. Snape had his wand gripped so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. Draco grabbed at his neck, trying to rip the invisible vice away from his throat as he was pinned against the cold stone wall.

"You listen to me, Malfoy," Snape began through clenched teeth. "I am trying to help you. Imagine that you were to be expelled from Hogwarts for that little stunt you pulled this morning in my class. Dumbledore could very well choose to view that as an attack on Granger for the sole purpose of her blood-status and he would certainly not hesitate to kick your arrogant, surly ass right out of here for it. Then what would you do? Your entire plan would be ruined, and the Dark Lord would not bat an eye to kill you and your entire family. After all, if you are no use to him, and your father has surely already disgraced himself passed redemption, then what good are you alive?" Draco's face was turning a light shade of purple when Snape released him and he fell to the floor. "I will have you know, as well, Draco, that Dumbledore has confided in me that he suspects something. He knows that the Dark Lord is making plans to have him killed. And if I were you, I would try to bring no more attention to myself than necessary if you plan on being successful. So, if you value your life, or your mother's life—" Draco coughed roughly, then spat out thick, pink-tinged spit as he continued to rub his neck.

"What would you propose I do then, Professor?" He said, stumbling to his feet and brushing of his pants. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to regain his composure.

"Well," Snape began, "you can start by apologizing to Miss Granger."

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> So? What did you think? Let me know, please! I really want to know your thoughts and opinions on this story! Keep an eye out for the next chapter and please follow, favorite and review:)


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: **Oh, goodie! The next chapter! Enjoy, my lovelies.

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><p><strong>7.<strong>

A scowl stained itself on Draco's face as he dipped his spoon into the thick, yellow squash soup. Since Snape approached him with his firm request to apologize to Hermione Granger, Draco lost his appetite completely. He was not sure if this was due to disgust, or guilt. He decided after a while that it was a mixture of both, which was the best he could do. Pansy Parkinson laced her arm through his as he continued to paw at his lunch.

"Why the sour face, Draco?" She said sweetly. This voice she often used with him, the innocent baby voice that somehow reminded him of plump strawberries, raised the hairs on his arms. He found it interesting how she could make herself sound so sweet, like honey, when he knew that behind that voice, she was a serpent, hiding behind her pure, girlish façade, waiting to bare her teeth and strike at any moment. Though she was a rather shallow character, he always found her roughly amusing. He stared down at his uneaten food, ignoring her question. Pansy just huffed at his silence, and then she gave a small giggle. "I saw what happened today in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Granger's face was priceless! I mean, I'm sure it was rather painful. I could actually hear her bones crack from the other side of the room, but that mudblood deserved it." She continued to giggle softly. Draco shoved his bowl away, sloshing the soup over the sides and onto the wooden table. Pansy jumped back as she got splashed with the yellow liquid. Draco stood up quickly and headed out of the Great Hall. He now knew that what he was feeling was guilt. After hearing Pansy, the feeling solidified in his gut like cement, and it then became unmistakable. "What the hell, Draco?" Pansy called after him, but he ignored her like he usually did and he headed quickly up the stairs and down the first floor corridor.

Draco stood in the entrance to the hospital wing for a few moments, debating whether or not he really wanted to carry through with what Snape told him to do. He glanced around, noticing that there was nobody in sight, except for Madame Pomfrey who was just visible in her office, poring over some documents on her desk, not looking up for a second, and the one occupied bed in the middle of the pristine room. Draco swallowed hard as he strolled over slowly, wiping his palms on his trousers as they became increasingly moist. His eyes traced Hermione as she lay in the bed. Her legs were wrapped up tightly in woven bandages and suspended a foot and a half above the level of her hips in a contraption that he found highly complex. As he approached her, she appeared to be sleeping. He thought about turning around and leaving, since she was not awake to hear his apology anyway, but he continued toward her. He figured it was better to apologize while she was unable to yell and scream at him, which could possibly lead Madame Pomfrey to emerge from her office and witness this very odd visitation between a broken Gryffindor and an unforgiving Slytherin.

He sat in a chair that was already placed at the head of her bed. He noticed it was somewhat warm. He guessed that Harry and Ron had just left. He was thankful now for the slow pace he took coming here. He sat down and stared at her. He looked at her face and noticed that she was not just sleeping. Her lips curled and her eyes squinted shut in a grimace of pain, but other than that, the rest of her muscles looked rigid and frozen. He saw on the bedside table that there was an empty glass with purple dregs at the bottom. Paralysis Potion. She winced again, distorting her face in pain that she could barely express. Draco swallowed again, his mouth dry as a desert now. He tried to clear the aridness from his throat.

"Granger," he said quietly. He paused for a moment as he saw one of her eyebrows twitch upward. He stared at her intently, wondering if it was intentional or reflexive. He felt like running, but his body was like lead in the chair. He noticed that even as she winced in her paralyzed state, that she still looked so much like that girl he saw when he was fourteen years old who was painted in that lovely shade of pink with tears staining her soft, rosy cheeks. He traced her face with his eyes and made his way to her hair. It was just as bushy as usual, but he had never seen it this close before. From a distance, it looked like a tangled mess, like the nest of a rat, but in reality, her hair was made up of thousands of ringlets that fell over each other in cascades. Organized chaos on the top of her head. Without realizing it, he slipped a pinky through one of her curls, twisting it around his finger. He ripped his hand back and the coil of hair bounced back onto her pillow. Why was he just unconsciously fingering her hair? He shook his head and began speaking again.

"Granger. I just wanted to say," he said, then paused as he noticed her eyelids fluttering. It seemed she was struggling to open her eyes at his voice. He froze. He thought that the Paralysis Potion would have surely knocked her out to where his apology would remain anonymous. The emeralds hidden behind her lids just barely flashed beneath her long, brown eyelashes. They shifted as far left as they could go to look at Draco, though she could barely open her eyes more than a centimeter. Her brow furrowed as she looked at him, and a faint squeak escaped her throat. Though Draco could barely see the color in her eyes, he noticed emotion in them. Normally, he saw defiance and hatred coming from this particular set, but this time it was different. Hermione lay in a bed, completely paralyzed, unable to move a muscle, defend herself, or even scream. This new look in her eyes, one Draco had never seen before the entire six years he had known her, was fear.

The heavy feeling in his stomach weighed down even more, and grew to the point where it no longer only sat in his guy, but now rested in his throat, his head, and even in his mouth. He looked into her eyes, unable to escape this terrified look she was giving him. What was she expecting that he would do to her as she lay helpless in her hospital bed? He was the son of a Death Eater, the nephew of Bellatrix Lestrange, the most disgusting, inhuman person in the whole world, and a very likely follower of the Dark Lord himself. And what was she? A muggle-born, the scum of the earth. He understood now this fear of him. Given any other circumstances, she would hex him to high heavens before she would let him get this close to her, but without a wand or the functionality of her body, she was like an animal in the trap. She expected him to put the pillow over her face and rid the world of just another nuisance. Draco continued to look at her in silence and he noticed something wet and shiny appear near the corner of her plump lashes as she allowed her eyes to close once more, the muscles in her face relaxing in submission. The tear fell down her cheek and ran down her neck. Draco felt sick.

"I just wanted to say," he continued in a voice that almost sounded defeated, "that I am sorry." He wanted to say something else to her, something that would appease her terror of him in this moment, but he was stirred by voiced coming from the corridor. He noticed a particular hissing voice as that of Severus Snape, and an angry booming coming from Dumbledore.

"Severus," he said firmly, "you have made it clear that the boy's intentions were not malicious, but how do you expect me to overlook this as just a quarrel between two students? Mister Malfoy attacked Miss Granger and those who witnessed it say that it did not look like some innocent duel!"

"Headmaster, please just listen to reason!" Snape said.

"Reason? If I was reasonable, he would already be on the train back home. Now, if Madame Pomfrey will allow it, I would like to talk to Hermione myself and listen to her side of the story." Snape scoffed in disapproval. "Miss Granger is a very honest and fair person. She will tell it how it happened, and if that is not being reasonable, then I don't know what is." The two adults emerged in the entrance of the hospital wing and both sets of eyes rested on him in surprise as he rose from his chair beside Hermione's bed. Draco ran a hand through his hair and painted his face with his usual scowl that he wore. He straightened his shirt as he walked past them, thrusting his shoulders back, trying to hide the fact that, for some reason, he felt shaken. He stood just beyond the door as he listened to the scene unfolding in the hospital wing.

Madame Pomfrey looked up from her work at the sound of Dumbledore's voice. "Ah, good afternoon, Headmaster!" She chirped as she stepped out of her office. "What can I do for you?"

"Yes, Madame Pomfrey," Dumbledore said as he stood beside the bed where Draco was just sitting. "I was hoping we could give Miss Granger some Wiggenweld Potion, to wake her so I may speak with her." Madame Pomfrey nodded and clambered through the cabinet.

"I will just need to give her a light sedative before I release her from the paralysis. She is still in a great deal of pain and I don't want her thrashing about before her bones heal all the way." She began mixing a light blue liquid in a glass with a spoonful of silvery powder.

"Yes, I understand. Take your time," Dumbledore said calmly.

"I hope to have her out of here in a few days," she said as she stirred the concoction slowly.

"A few days?" Dumbledore questioned.

"Oh, yes. The bones in her legs weren't just broken. They were shattered. Like powder. I am pretty sure they are unmendable. I was forced to just have them regrow. It was a rather nasty injury. One of the worst I have seen." Dumbledore pursed his lips as she gave Hermione the new potion that would cause her to awaken. Draco's heart pounded. Surely she would say something that would get him kicked out, that would suggest that Draco put her in the hospital wing because he hated her for her blood-status. And why shouldn't she? He knew the only reason he was so ugly to her over the years was because she was muggle-born. He made no secret of that. While he stood there, listening to the small sounds Hermione made as she slipped out of semi-conciousness and into wakefulness, Draco felt himself slump to the floor. The words that would come out of her mouth would inevitably kill him. He would be expelled and unable to fulfill the duty that the Dark Lord had bestowed upon him. He shut his eyes, succumbing to his fate when he heard a soft, scratchy voice cut sweetly through the air. It reminded him of that voice Pansy used on him so often, but it did not have the snake-like, malevolent undertones as hers did. It was pure.

"He didn't mean it. We were just practicing," she said, her parched throat making her words sound dry. Draco could almost hear the smile curving her lips. "He's rather good at nonverbal spells." She winced again and her face went pale. Madame Pomfrey raised another cup to her lips, which made her go limp again, and her breathing slowed as she slipped back into sleep. Dumbledore ran his fingers through his beard as Snape's expression turned to one of incredulity. Hermione had the chance to ruin Draco, to condemn him to a fate worse than death, but instead, she lied, something completely out of character for her. Draco stood up slowly, his head swimming and his fingers tingling.

Hermione just saved his life.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>I think that might have been the beginning of something. Maybe? Or will Draco just take advantage of this second chance to continue to be a scoundrel? Let me know what you think in a review! Hehehe:) Okay so keep an eye out for the next chapter, and remember to follow, favorite and review!


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: **Okay you guys. I got this one out relatively fast, though some of you thought it took forever. I love writing this story. and whenever I get the chance to, I try to update it. Please keep in mind that I am a full-time ICU nurse, and a full-time student. I do not always have time every week to update. Please just bear with me and don't be upset when I don't get it up as fast as you'd like. Actually, I know I should take it all as a compliment that you love this story so much that you just can't wait, so I will keep that in mind as well. Well, here is the next chapter, up quickly by popular demand. Enjoy!

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><p><strong>8.<strong>

Hermione focused on the colorful patches that emerged and danced across her eyelids as she squeezed her eyes shut from her constant grimace. The pain was unbearable, and she was trapped in her paralyzed body, not even able to fully open her eyes to view her surroundings. She did not want to move her legs, but some movement in her arms and neck would have been nice. She could at least try to occupy her mind with a good book instead of trying to make pictures out of the blotches behind her eyes.

Ron and Harry had just left her side. She tried to hang onto every word that came out of their mouths, to hopefully feel like she was sitting along with them instead of paralyzed in a bed, but the potion that Madame Pomfrey had given her tended to make her senses hazy, and she felt like she was drifting in and out of a dream. She knew, though, that Harry and Ron were not a dream, because her dreams stopped being so sweet to include the love from her friends, and became more the terror of the world outside of Hogwarts, and the terror that attempted to exterminate her 'kind.' Harry and Ron sat beside the bed, so close that their knees were pressed up against the mattress and she could feel the warmth coming from their bodies. Ron had her hand closed tightly in his, squeezing her fingers together to where it almost hurt. She was grateful for this new uncomfortable sensation, as it pulled some of her body's attention away from her legs and into her hand, which felt the equivalent to a deep massage when compared to her broken legs. _Actually, they aren't broken_, Hermione thought. They were _shattered_, as Madame Pomfrey so eloquently put it.

As soon as Ron and Harry left, she felt the pain double in intensity. She did not realize just how their presence had helped ease her. She almost felt like she could sleep when they were in her company. She felt like she could vomit, but the paralysis potion had completely stopped the function of her bowels. Nothing about her was moving. Not her limbs, not her stomach, barely her mind. The pain seemed to come in waves. A wave was starting to crest when she heard footsteps entering the hospital wing. She tried to prick her ears to identify the footsteps. They weren't heavy like Ron's or quick like Harry's. They weren't short and light like Madame Pomfrey. She knew it was not Dumbledore. He seemed to glide rather than walk across the floor. She could not place these steps, although they sounded eerily familiar. She knew she had spent the last five years hearing these footsteps. The pain peaked, causing her body to quake. She squeezed her eyes shut tight again, this time seeing green swirls swimming across her lids and entangling with dancing dark yellow spots.

The footsteps stopped at the side of her bed and she heard the scraping of a chair moving across the floor, then of a body sitting down in it. She started to breathe in slowly, trying to grasp as much information through her nose as possible, as her eyelids were still too heavy to open. She had to separate multiple smells; the aseptic smell of the hospital wing, the sour grape smell of the remains of the paralysis potion beside her bed, the wood of the chairs beside the bed. Now she had isolated the smell of this new visitor. It was very subtle, suggesting a person that would rather not be overbearing or throwing themselves out there, but that is rather solitary, and enjoys the comforts of close and minimal company. This scent smelled fresh, like seawater and grass, with a hint of… what was it? Musky cedarwood. She deduced that this person was very classic, pristine, and possibly a deep thinker. But something about the scent tickled her nose. It almost felt like a secret that her nose stumbled upon. This part of the smell was not from cologne or another product, it was this person's natural scent. It reminded her of winter: cold but oddly comfortable. She felt like smiling when the person's voice cut through the air in a whisper.

"Granger," it said. Her eyebrow twitched up. Did she slip back into a dream? Her dream of nightmares and terror? No. It was not blurry and hazy like it seemed when Harry and Ron were around and the scene felt dreamlike. This was real. Draco Malfoy was sitting next to her hospital bed. She tried to remain motionless. Though she was fully paralyzed, she now felt her muscles buzzing, like there were bees burrowing under her flesh and making holes in her bones. She begged for the uncomfortable sensation to stop so she could appear stoic as Malfoy looked down on her. Then she felt a ringlet of her hair lifted off the pillow and twirled around his finger. He was toying with her, like a fox paws at his injured meal of a mouse before it finally crunches it with its sharp teeth, ending its miserable existence. She felt her face grow hot as the ringlet bounced back and rested against her face. It was still warm from him fondling it. Her heart pounded against her chest wall as Malfoy took in a sharp breath to speak again. "Granger. I just wanted to say…"

_That you are grateful to be seeing me like this? Hopeless. Unable to defend myself against you. I bet you are admiring your work right now. My legs are dangling above me, my bones are powder. I'm strung up like a bloody slab of meat just waiting to be cooked up and fed to hungry, carnivorous mouths. I bet you love this. Filthy Mudblood Herminoe Granger finally got what she deserved and you came to finish me off. Fucking coward! The only way you could think of ever killing me I would have to paralyzed on a hospital bed and unable to hex you to hell and back. You are a bloody fucking coward, Draco Malfoy. Go ahead and reach for that pillow and just put it over my face. I can't do this anymore. I would rather be dead than live to see anymore death for something as bloody stupid as blood-status. Do it. Do it, you bloody fucking coward._

She was looking at him now. Barely, as her eyelids felt like five-hundred pounds weights and she was not able to lift them far, but she could see him. His slick blonde hair lay perfectly in place, the perfect creases in his pants, the green tie that was draped around his collar and knotted right below his Adam's apple that bobbed up and down as he swallowed. She begged her arm to move so she could grab his tie. She wanted to yank it toward her and wrap it tightly around her wrist, choking him. Watching him as he struggled for air, begging it to move in his lungs, to give him life. Watching as his skin turned a hue of greyish blue and he slipped into unconsciousness, then went limp as the blood in his veins slowed with death. Normally, these kinds of thoughts would scare her. She was not capable of murder. But he was. And he was not going to hesitate to kill her first. She wiggled her thumb, but beyond that she could not move her arm. She realized that she could not defend herself against him now. These next few sweet, unsuffocated breaths were going to be her last.

_Do it, Draco Malfoy._

She allowed her eyes to close as she did not have the energy to keep them open any longer. A tear burned her eye as it formed beneath her eyelid, then seeped through her lashes. It hung on a bottom eyelash for a moment, and then slid down her cheek and ran down her neck, giving her a chill. She waiting for her head to lull to the side as he slid the pillow from under her and nestled it over her face. But he just sat there, staring at her. He cleared his throat.

"I just wanted to say," he said, sounding wounded, like someone had shoved a knife between his ribs, "that I am sorry." Hermione was confused, and she felt herself slipping back into the dream-like state that she so often fell into without wanting it. Draco Malfoy just said he was sorry. She fought to stay conscious. She wanted him to say more. What was he sorry for? For attacking her? For the years of torment he inflicted upon her? The tone in his voice made her think it was more than just the events that unfolded today, that he was sorry for more than just turning her bones into powder. Another wave of pain shot through her as he shot up out of the chair and turned from her, walking quickly to exit the hospital wing. Something spooked him.

She then heard the voiced of Dumbledore and Professor Snape, arguing as they now entered. She succumbed to the pain and submitted to lights behind her eyelids again. Madame Pomfrey's voice emerged from the office in the back as she greeted the men.

"Ah, good afternoon, Headmaster!" She said brightly as she hustled toward them. "What can I do for you?"

"Yes, Madame Pomfrey," Dumbledore said as he perched himself above Hermione's head. "I was hoping we could give Miss Granger some Wiggenweld Potion to wake her so I may speak with her." Hermione was familiar with Wiggenweld Potion. It reverses the effects of sleep and paralysis potions. Although she was in pain, she knew that the mixture of paralysis potion had some pain killers mixed in, and she did not want to be jerked out of the hold of the potion and thrown into the real pain that lie under the bandages on her legs. _Please send them away, Madame Pomfrey_.

She heard her clambering through one of the many cabinets strewn about the hospital wing. "I will need to give her a light sedative before I release her from the paralysis." _Oh, bless you, you gentle, wonderful woman!_ She held up a glass to Hermione's lips. She wondered if she could even swallow, but it seemed like her throat woke up as soon as the up touched her mouth. A warm nectar slid down her throat and she felt her eyelids decrease in weight. She opened her eyes fully, and squinted as the afternoon sun poured through the windows. She looked up at Dumbledore. His face was stern and serious. She had never seen him look like this before. Then she looked over to Snape, who was avoiding her gaze. He looked genuinely worried. She knew exactly what was going to be asked of her.

"Hermione," Dumbledore said gently, as if his words might hurt her even more. He wanted to know what happened this morning, if she believed Malfoy attacked her out of hatred. She held up her hand, thankful for finally having the wonderful feeling of functioning limbs. She swallowed, trying to ebb the dryness out of her throat. She could condemn Draco to expulsion. Have his wand snapped in half so he could never even make tea with magic. Part of her knew he deserved it, wanted to ruin his life like he had so often ruined hers. But words spilled out of her mouth before she even knew what she was saying. All she could think of were those words from Draco's mouth that still burned her ears and buzzed around her clearing head. He was sorry. Sorry for so much more than just what was on the surface. Or at least, she hoped he was.

"He didn't mean it," she said with a dry mouth. "We were just practicing." She felt her lips curve up into a smile. She was actually smiling at the thought of Draco Malfoy. The thought made her feel strange, and her head began swimming as she set it back on the pillow and shut her eyes as they started becoming heavy again. "He's rather good at nonverbal spells," she lied, the smile continuing to stain her lips as another cup touched her mouth and the sour grape taste seeped into her mouth again as she fell once again into her dream, the pain lessening as she finally fell asleep, the green and yellow patches dancing around an uncannily pleasant image of Draco Malfoy.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>I sure hope you like it. I wrote it quickly to appease my readers before they began rioting in the streets. So, like I said before, it's not easy to write often, but I promise that as soon as the chance arises, you will not be disappointed. Until next time, folks! Remember to follow, favorite, and review, review, review!


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note**: Here's chapter 9.

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><p><strong>9.<strong>

Draco sprinted down the corridor and into the boys' lavatory, jamming his face into the nearest toilet bowl and purging himself of all the contents that rested in his bowels. He released it all until nothing came out with his violent retches, and he rested his hot face on the cold toilet seat. He tried to wrap his head around what had just happened moments before. He apologized to Granger, she was petrified of him, and then she _lied_ for him to Dumbledore so he would not be expelled from Hogwarts. Flat out lied for no outward reason. He was flooded with a plethora of emotions now as he attempted to stand up, all of them muddied together so he was unable to even discern what he was really feeling. He picked one out of the mixed and dwelled on it. He chose the most familiar of the lot.

He hated Hermione Granger. He hated her. What if he did not want to live? What if he was perfectly fine with this new fate of being murdered by the hand of the Dark Lord so that he would never have to deal with anymore of this ever again? He would never have to see his father continue on with his putrid existence, watch his mother wither away into this shell she has become, stand by as his despicable aunt killed people for sport, or watch himself turn into something he never wanted to become in the first place. He looked in the mirror, sweat beading at the top of his forehead as strands of blonde fell from their designated places. He did not try to sweep them back. Instead, he turned on the sink faucet and thrust his face into the running water, letting it run across his face and into his hair. He hated Hermione Granger and he hated himself.

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><p>Snape stepped into his office and shut the door tightly behind him before he rested his face in his hands. He did not expect to see Draco leaving the hospital wing when they entered, and he certainly did not expect Hermione to lie for him. He did not know she was capable of lying for anyone. Especially a Slytherin and more especially Draco Malfoy. He straightened up when he heard a shuffling coming from the other side of the room.<p>

"It is rude to snoop," he said dryly. Suddenly, a blonde figure in a silk, green overcoat emerged from behind a bookcase. She moved in a rigid fashion, as if her body ached and she were attempting to hide it. Snape rushed over to her and pulled over a chair for her to sit down. She held a hand to her forehead as she swayed. "Narcissa," he said, "what are you doing here?" Now that she was sitting and not about to fall over, he looked at her face and noticed a shade of purple circling her left eye and a pinkish-blue knot sprouting from her forehead, barely hidden under her hairline. "What happened to you?" He ran his thumb gently over the bump on her forehead, examining it carefully. Narcissa sniffed.

"Lucius. He found something of mine. I'm such a silly woman. It was my fault. I—" A light 'shh' came from Snape's lips as he stared at her, watching at the tears begin to form on her bottom lashes.

"These things will never be your fault," he said. He stood up and head for a small glass cabinet in the corner of the room. He picked out a small vial of clear liquid and a cloth. He wet the cloth with the potion and began to dab it over her eye carefully. "You deserve so much better, Narcissa." Narcissa sniffed again and looked up at him hopefully.

"Really, Severus?" Snape cleared his throat and looked away from her.

"Hold this on your eye." He walked over to his desk and turned his back to her. "What did Lucius find that made him so angry?" He could hear her stiffen up at this newly posed question, as if she was wondering if she should answer it truthfully.

She hesitated for a moment. "The post owl," she began shakily. "The post owl brought… a rather large bill to the house. Lucius did not like that I had spent so much money." Snape could tell that she was lying, but he did not question it. If she did not want to confide in him, he would not make her.

"Well, he married a woman with expensive taste," he said coldly. Narcissa gave a wet chuckle, not sure if this was comment was supposed to be sincere or a bit spiteful. Snape got into the glass cabinet once more and came back with two glasses of fire whisky. He handed one to her and she took it from him rather quickly. "So, what do I owe the pleasure for this visit?" He said. Narcissa took a hardy sip from her glass.

"I was here about my son," she said very matter-of-fact.

"Oh?" He said. Snape wondered how she had found out about the previous events occurring with Draco and Hermione. He sat down beside her. "Well, the Granger girl lied for him. After shattering her legs, I figured she would say anything to get him expelled but—"

"Expelled?" She questioned loudly. "What do you mean 'expelled?' Severus, the term just began! What in the bloody hell could have happened already that could have my son expelled?" She winced under her aching body. Snape paused for a moment. He had said too much already. He exhaled deeply and explained the entire situation. Narcissa began crying again. "I hoped he would not turn violent. Severus, I thought you were going to try to keep him from turning into this?"

"Narcissa," Snape said gently. "You know about how I felt about Lily Evans." Narcissa nodded, and gave him a puzzling look, like she did not know where he was going with this. "Lily saved me. If you want to save Draco's soul, I believe the only way is the most drastic way. We have to give him Lily Evans."

Her eyes widened. "And by Lily Evans you mean…"

"Hermione Granger."

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><p>It was nearly a month before Hermione walked back into the Potions classroom. Her recovery took much longer than expected, and as the days turned into weeks, Draco felt worse and worse about all of it, and hated her even more for making him feel so awful. The reason her recovery time nearly quadrupled made Draco despise Ronald Weasley even more, which he wondered how it was even possible. Hermione was just a day or two away from being released from her casts that surrounded her legs. Ron and Harry snuck into the hospital wing as the lanterns burned low and sat by her bed. They brought her candies from the weekend's trip to Hogsmeade. Harry gave her some chocolate frogs and cauldron cakes, and Ron brought a case of butterbeers for the three to share. Hermione took one sip and then her body went stiff and her back arched uncomfortable as she began to seize. Her mouth started to foam and her eyes rolled in the back of her head. Her limbs started to writhe uncontrollably. Harry yelled for Madame Pomfrey as Ron just stared at her, completely petrified at this sight of Hermione having a vicious seizure. Apparently, some ferments that were present in the butterbeer reacted with the pain killers she was taking. After Madame Pomfrey got Hermione through the seizure, her legs were rebroken from the rigidness and writhing, and Harry and Ron both got two weeks of detention.<p>

Draco bore holes in the back of Ron's head as they took their seats in front of their cauldrons. Draco watched as Hermione squeezed herself at the end of the table beside Harry. Since she had not been present for most of the classes since the start of term, everyone was paired off, and she was the odd one out. She raked her fingers through her hair as Professor Slughorn singled her out.

"Miss Granger, you are in need of a partner, I see." he said as he scanned the room quickly, searching for an empty seat. Draco looked around, then noticed that Blaise was not beside him. _Dammit! Blaise skipped class today to be with Daphne Greengrass. That bloated cow_. Draco spread himself out and threw his bag beside him, to make it look like the space beside him was indeed occupied. But it obviously failed. "Ah!" Slughorn said as he caught Draco's eye. "There's a seat right beside Mister Malfoy! You will be partners today as we brew the Angel's Trumpet Draught!" Hermione bit her lip as she scooped up her books and headed toward the back of the class where Draco sat. He continued to sprawl out, barely giving her room to place her things on the table. "Now, please turn to page five-hundred twenty and we will get started! The first pair whose potion begins to sing carols wins the medal!" As Hermione pulled out her chair, Draco sprang up and headed toward the ingredients cabinet.

She was not sure how this was going to work. Was their interaction in the hospital wing last month going to turn things around? Were they friends? Were they supposed to be cordial toward each other now? Were they still neck and neck enemies and nothing will have changed? Hermione decided that who they were to each other would remain on Draco's shoulders. She would reciprocate whatever he gave her. If he was pleasant, she would be too. If he acted like an asshole to her, she would give him hell. And if he ever attacked her again, she wouldn't tell Dumbledore to expel him. She would poison him. Or smother him. Or inject air into his veins. She was no longer going to be his victim.

He returned a few minutes later with armfuls of ingredients and tonics. He set them down on the table and thumbed through his book, not even acknowledging Hermione's presence. Hermione said nothing as she reached for a vial of rat tonic and began to measure it out in a tiny spoon.

"Malfoy," she finally said softly as she chopped up some ashwinder eggs.

"Granger, please. Let's just make this potion and get this over with." Draco said with gritted teeth. Hermione paused for a moment. Obviously they weren't going to be overly cordial to each other.

"I was just going to recommend we use a lower temperature for heating the potion. I read in a book that just a difference of ten degrees can—"

"Of course, you read it in a fucking book, Granger. Do what you want, I don't give a damn." Somehow, Hermione felt that he was really holding back from what he normally would have said to her. No real insults. No name calling. The remaining two hours went by in muteness. They silently worked out a system that they would each work on every other line of instructions. Hermione dropped in the unicorn hairs, Draco turned up the heat under the cauldron, Hermione stirred seven times clockwise, Draco pulverized the horn of bicorn. This system worked out pretty well, since about five minutes before class was over, the pearly white liquid in their cauldron began to emanate a lovely rendition of The Boar's Head Carol which echoed loudly through the classroom.

"Well done! Miss Granger and Mister Malfoy have done it! And what an exquisite tune! Twenty points to Gryffindor and Slytherin, and you win today's medal!" Professor Slughorn sang as he draped a heavy silver trinket around Hermione's neck. For the first time in two hours, Hermione smiled as she thanked Professor Slughorn. She turned around to see Draco, but just caught a flash of his school robes as he swept out the back of the classroom and their cauldron had already been wiped clean. Spotless. Their potion that was for nobody's eyes except their own.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Yes, I realize there was not much exciting going on in this one. But, after New Year's I will be off for three days so I think I will have time to write a nice, big, fat, action-packed chapter (or two) for you hungry readers! So I hope this will hold you until then. If you enjoy this story, please, follow, favorite and review:)


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: **Hi all! Sorry it took a while for this one. It was a very crazy and stressful couple weeks of work. Like I'm talking really not fun. So here is chapter 10 and I hope you enjoy it.

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><p><strong>10.<strong>

Hermione continued to stare at the empty cauldron sitting on the table in front of her as the large medal weighted down on her neck that was still slightly stiff from her long stay in that uncomfortable bed in the hospital wing. She could not understand it, but for some reason, she was _upset_. But why? She did just make the best Angel's Trumpet Draught in the entire classroom, even in the whole time Professor Slughorn had been teaching, he made sure she knew in a drunken, excited tone. As soon as the second hand hit the twelve on the clock, she slammed the medal down on the table beside the empty cauldron, slung her bag over her shoulder and exited the Potions classroom without even a glance toward Ron or Harry. She knew they would be expecting her to be proud and exhilarated at being the best, which she normally would be, but right now she could not bear having to explain her bad spirits to them, especially when she did not even understand it herself.

Without realizing where her body was taking her, her calves began burning as she climbed the seventh flight of stairs. She was grateful for being alone for once, no Ron or Harry by her side like they always were. Of course, she loved them, but sometimes she loved her solidarity too. She arrived at the top of the staircase and her ears perked just as her legs buckled beneath her. Though the bones in her legs were fresh and new, they would never be as strong as the originals, and sometimes they cramped and buckled. She had gotten used to it, but at this moment they seemed a burden as she wanted to know what, or who she had just heard. She thought she heard a sound of a sad sigh, a muffled wet cough, a tiny sob. Then she heard a heavy metal door slam. Once the rigidity in her limbs receded, she hobbled down the corridor, and realized she was standing in front of the whimsical tapestry depicting the trolls in tutu's learning how to dance ballet. She turned to the opposite wall, bare and out of place, as the walls all over the castle were normally covered with portraits and paintings, gawking at the students or playing loud, raucous games of cards. Not this one, though. Because this wall hid something she knew very well: The Room of Requirement.

She wondered who had just gone inside. She figured she knew who it was, as the only people who really knew its existence were the people who were in Dumbledore's Army. There were also the Slytherins who were part of Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad lapdogs, but even they had no idea how to access the room outside of blowing a huge hole in the stone wall. She walked quickly up and down the hallway in front of the bare wall. _I need to know who went inside_. She thought to herself three times. She was focused. Intent. She thought she heard the sound of the door conjuring itself, like vines crawling up a wall. She turned, excited, and then saw that the wall was just as empty as it had been moments before. _You cannot enter while someone else is inside_. She bit her lip, thinking. She did not know why she was so curious to know who had gone into the Room of Requirement, but for some reason, she needed to find out. She sat down a few yards away from where the door would be, in a small alcove where she would not be easily spotted, took a book from her bag and waited.

An hour or so went by when she heard the door materializing on the bare wall. She peeked around to get a glimpse, her heart racing. She was unsure why her adrenaline was pulsing through her. It was probably just some Ravenclaw, Ernie Macmillan, perhaps, trying to find a secluded place to study. The door cracked open slowly, and a small light glittered from a pair of peeking eyes, checking to see if the coast was clear out in the empty corridor. After a few cautious moments, a body emerged watchfully. Hermione's eyes widened as her gaze rested upon him. Draco Malfoy looked somewhat shaken, his usual perfect blonde hair was askew on top of his head and his stormy grey eyes looked wild, like a scared animal. Hermione furrowed her eyebrows. It was interesting to see him like this, the boy who was usually so stoic and put-together was now stirred up inside. She watched as he traipsed down the corridor quickly, as if he had not just arisen from the most mysterious room in the entire castle.

Hermione followed him for the next two weeks as he ventured secretly into the Room of Requirement, trying to figure out a way to follow him inside before the door disappeared. She tried numerous spells in hopes of lodging the door, or freezing it open, but nothing worked. In her desperation, she even attempted to throw a book in the opening before it closed, but the book, strangely enough, burst into thousands of tiny bubbles as the door crushed it and disappeared. On a Friday night, Hermione reached into her bag and pulled out an invisibility cloak which she had asked Harry if she could borrow. He let her, as she explained she needed it to spend extra time in the library to study up on some Runes homework. She waited in the alcove for Malfoy to come by and open the door.

He was later than usual, and his color was paler than she had ever seen him. She draped the silky fabric over her head, making sure she was fully invisible and she tiptoed toward him as he stared up at the wall, mouthing words, begging it to open for him. She stood closely behind him, holding her breath, as her mouth was nearly resting on the nape of his neck because she was so close to him. The door appeared in front of them, and she took a small breath in. She had never seen it like this before. The top of the door was only inches from the domed ceiling, and the knocker was as big as her head, heavy laden silver that shined to the point where you could see your reflection. Malfoy turned around and looked her straight in the eye, or it seemed like he did. He did not see her though, and proceeded through the door as she followed closely behind him.

Once inside, Hermione hung back from him as she admired the room. It was as large as the Great Hall and miscellaneous items were piled on top of each other, brushing the ceiling. She saw broken brooms and books, wooden boxes with key holes, dusty cabinets, gaudy jewelry like diamond earrings and something that looked like a tiara with an eagle on it. She was compelled to touch it when she heard a familiar screeching. She looked to her left and saw a large cage that had its small door bent open, and electric blue Cornish pixies were whizzing overhead. She gripped the cloak tighter around her. She definitely did not want one of them to spot her and give her away. She walked slowly toward Draco again, who was now standing in front of a large, mahogany object that reminded her of a wardrobe. She thought she saw a tear resting on his bottom lashes, but then she could hear his teeth gnashing and his face became red.

"You think you're so bloody clever, don't you?" He said, his teeth clenched. Hermione froze, not saying a word. He waited a moment, then hammered a fist against the cabinet angrily. "Answer me!" He shouted. "I know you're there." Hermione gripped her wand as she saw him raise his in her general direction. "Hominem revelio." She felt the invisibility cloak slide off of her like water. She tried to grab at it, grip it tightly to her to continue concealing her presence, but she stood there in the middle of the room, feeling like she was stripped naked. Malfoy's eyes rested upon her. Hermione stood up straight, her fingers wrapped around her wand, but she kept it at her side.

"Hello, Malfoy," she said softly, as if not to startle a vicious animal to attack. His face was still as red as ever and a vein pulsed in his forehead.

"I know you have been following me, Granger. Always have been the nosey bitch, haven't you?" He raised his wand and pointed it right between her eyes. "It would be so convenient. To kill you in here where nobody would find you. Nobody has even thought about this room since your stupid little club last year. I would bet most of your dumb little friends would not even be able to find it again."

"But you found it pretty easily," she said, her voice still calm. "How long have you been coming here?"

"Since a couple of weeks after we blew your lot out of the water."

"Oh. So what's that?" She said, pointing curiously to the wardrobe, or now that she got a better looks at it, it was more of a cabinet. He looked over his shoulder to the object he had positioned himself in front of, as if he were protecting it.

"It's none of your bloody fucking business, that's what it is, Granger!" He shoved his wand toward her. "I will kill you, you filthy mudblood." Hermione did not move. "I said I will kill you!" She stayed perfectly still. "Raise your wand!"

"No," Hermione said firmly.

"Raise it!" A quickl flash of blue emulated from the tip of his wand, missing her and ricocheting off of a dusty mirror, stunning one of the pixies floating in the air.

"No, Malfoy! I am not going to fight you." Draco scoffed.

"Of course you won't. You Gryffindors, always overflowing with your _pride_. I think you are just full of shit. Just as scared as everyone else, hiding behind your precious Dumbledore. Well, we will see how long that lasts." Draco could see the puzzled look on Hermione's face, and he laughed. "Still haven't figured it out, Granger? I would have thought that the brightest witch of the age would be able to understand that the only thing standing between the Dark Lord was that old buffoon. As soon as he's out of the picture, all will be right again."

"And who is going to kill him? He's the best wizard of all time, and it will take more than just—"

"Stop talking so damn much, Granger!" He said as he repositioned his wand toward her head. "You don't know a damn thing." He started to laugh again as he looked at her. "It's funny, because you think you are so smart, being able to hover feathers a few feet off of a table, or turn a goblet of water into pumpkin juice. Oh, what amazing magic that is! You know what I think? I think the reason you are so good at all this useless shit is because—"

"Please stop," she said quietly.

"It's because you know you don't deserve it! You are just as repulsed by your blood status as I am!"

"That—that's not true."

"It bloody well is! You practice and study so much so you can feel like you actually belong with people who are actually magical. Like me. And your stupid friend Ron. He is a pure-blood, after all. And you love him, but you are scared he won't love you because your magic isn't as deep set as his. You are a freak of nature, Granger. That's all there is to it. And you are absolutely disgusting. Now, raise your wand, or I will kill you right here."

Hermione shook her head. She felt like she might cry, but nothing came. All she felt was remorse for this person standing in front of her.

"You won't kill me. You had the perfect opportunity to when I was in the hospital wing. Nobody was watching. You could've just put the pillow over my face or poisoned me or something. I was completely helpless. Instead, you _apologized _to me. Oh, yeah, Malfoy. You're a real killer. Bloody coward, more like it."

"Don't call me a coward."

"Then don't call me a mudblood. I deserve my magic way more than you deserve yours. I use mine in hopes of making the world a better place to live in. You just use yours to be a jackass most of the time. I'm not afraid of you." Hermione picked up the invisibility cloak off of the floor and turned to walk out of the room.

"Granger!" He shouted. "Why didn't you tell them? Why didn't you just say that I attacked you out of hate like it actually was and get me expelled?" Hermione stopped, but did not turn around.

"Everyone deserves another chance, Malfoy. You have yours now. So you can either use it to continue to be a coward, or you can use it to change. That's all." Hermione ripped the door open, and slammed it behind her as she left, leaving Draco Malfoy standing in front of the cabinet, his wand still raised and a single bead of sweat forming on his hot forehead.

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> I hope you liked that one. I will try to get the next one out soon, but if my life keeps going crazy like it has been, I can't make promises. But I will definitely try. Until then, follow, favorite, and review! Thanks y'all:)


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: **Got this one out quicker than expected. I hope you like it:)

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><p><strong>11.<strong>

Draco ran through the field in the valley near his house, wielding a twig that he slashed around, pretending to stun enemies left and right. The wildflowers were almost as high as his armpits and he struggled through the brush as he continued forward.

"Oh no!" He cried. "The tentacula has got me!" He fell down as his ankle got caught in a knot of weeds. He stared upward for a moment, admiring the fluffy clouds that perched in the sky. Then a shadow appeared above him.

"What's tentacula?" A sweet voice said to him. A girl of about seven years old, his own age, stood above him wearing a yellow dress, which meshed perfectly with the wildflowers that nearly engulfed her. She had long, black hair that fell over her shoulder in two braids. Draco stumbled over his words as she bent down and started ripping the weeds away from his entangled ankle.

"It's a plant. Really nasty thing. I'm Draco," he said as he pushed himself up off of the ground. The little girl giggled. "Why are you laughing?" He said, wanting to sound angry, but her laugh was almost infectious and he started to smile.

"Because it's just a funny name! I have never met someone named Draco before," she said. Draco huffed.

"And I suppose your name is any less funny?" He said, crossing his arms.

"I'm Rosy. It's a pretty ordinary name, I guess." Draco smiled.

"I've never met anyone named Rosy." The girl picked up the small stick that Draco had been playing with.

"What was it you were playing?" Draco grabbed the stick and searched along the ground. He found another twig and handed it to her.

"It's a wand!" He said excitedly. Rosy had a puzzled look on her face.

"A wand?"

"Yeah, you wave it around and magic comes out of it!" She still looked confused. He demonstrated, twirling the stick in the air in an extravagant motion and made up an incantation. "Rollus applesaurus!" The girl looked around to see if anything had happened. "Look out behind you! The applesaurus dinosaur is coming at you! Quick, make magic!" Draco ducked down and Rosy whipped around, her braids lifting off of her shoulders as she held up her make-believe wand.

"Um," she hesitated. "Magico dinosauro!" She yelled, then ducked beside Draco. Draco then waved his wand and said another spell.

"Good job! I think we stunned him for now. Let's get away from him before he wakes up!" Rosy smiled as Draco held out his hand for her, and they continued through the field together as friends.

"Draco, where have you been?" Narcissa said as she sat in the entryway on a green sofa, reading a book.

"I was in the field. I made a friend!" He said excitedly,

"Oh, you did?" Narcissa said as she pulled Draco onto her lap and began wiping a smear of dirt off of his cheek. "And who was this friend?"

"Her name is Rosy. She didn't know what a wand was, which was pretty strange, but she is really fun!" Narcissa furrowed her brow.

"She is a muggle-girl then?" Draco just shrugged his shoulders.

"I guess so. She has long hair like you," he said as he toyed with his mother's long blonde tresses.

"Well, I am glad you made a friend. When will you see her again?"

"I think tomorrow afternoon she will be in the field. Can I go tomorrow to play with her? Please?" Narcissa chuckled at her son's dirty face pleading at her.

"Of course you can, Draco. Now go upstairs and get cleaned up before your father comes home and sees you like this." Her smile faded as Draco headed up the stairs and the image of Lucius entered her mind.

A few moments later, the front door opened, and he strolled in, throwing his travelling cloak on a chair and huffing loudly.

"Good evening, Lucius. How was—"

"Is dinner ready yet?" He cut her off.

"Yes, dear. Just waiting for Draco to come down from his bath."

"Well if he is not down here in three minutes we are starting without him. Come," he said, gesturing her toward the dining room. "Set the table." Narcissa obeyed as Draco came tromping down the stairs.

"Mum! When we were playing today, that nasty applesaurus came out of nowhere and we had to fight it and—"

"Who was this you were playing with, Draco?" Draco saw his father and suddenly looked down and backed away slowly, as if he had just run up on a hippogriff without bowing first.

"Rosy. Mom said she's a muggle-girl." Lucius's eyebrows raised up.

"Oh?" He said, almost angrily.

"Draco," Narcissa said shakily as she set three plates on the table. "You are not to see that girl again." Draco stomped and opened his mouth to protest.

"But you said I could—"

"It does not matter what I said! You will listen to what I am saying now! You will not see that filthy mudblood girl again and you will do as I say! Do you understand?" She winced at her own words, but kept her face stony as she looked at Draco. Tears rose up and rested on his blonde lashes as his face turned red.

"I don't know what 'mudblood' means but it doesn't sound very nice," he said and he turned and ran for the stairs.

"Draco, we are about to eat dinner," Lucius said coldly.

"I'm not hungry!" He yelled as he ran up the staircase. "And Rosy is a nice girl! She isn't filthy and you are just being unfair because she can't do magic! She's still my friend and I love her!" He screamed from the top of the stairs, then he slammed his door and did not come out until the sun had risen the next morning.

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><p>Draco stood in the same spot for what felt like an hour. He lowered his wand after his arm started burning. He felt a chill run through his as a breeze carried through the room. He blinked away his daze and turned to look at the cabinet again. It was just a large box made of wood, but it filled him with anger and he lashed out at it, punching it and kicking it. He wanted to blast a hole through it, but his arm was so sore he could not bring his wand up high enough to aim. He felt so ashamed. He wished his could just crawl into that cabinet and vanish himself. But he did not want to come out on the other end. He just wanted to disappear and never emerge in another place. Just vanish altogether. Forever.<p>

How could Hermione Granger, just a mudblood girl who he considered to be beneath him, stand in front of him like that, not even raising her wand, and defeat him with words so sharp that they dug in his ribs like a thousand knives. He wanted to hate her. He wanted to find her and put a nasty curse on her that would disfigure her for the rest of her life, but then those thoughts made him feel ashamed. Because she was right. Everything she said was exactly right. Draco leaned against the cabinet and slid own to the floor.

Was she really beneath him? Was he really any better than she was? His instinct screamed 'yes,' because that was what he was taught. But his brain, as it became less muddied and more clear than he felt like it had ever been, started to say 'no.' She was brilliant. She could conjure a full-bodied patronus, and he could barely even conjure a wisp of a cloud. She was kind to everyone she met. _Except me_, he thought. But that was not true. She only reciprocated his actions. And she could have been much worse to him. She saved his life. Gave him a second chance. Tears started to burn his eyes as he banged his head against the cabinet. This black hole that filled him up was swallowing him and he felt like he could not claw his way out. Then, without even wanting it to, a memory stirred in him, and an image appeared inside his eyelids. That little girl with the black braids and the yellow dress. Rosy. She was so pretty and gentle and innocent and she accepted him. He accepted her without a second thought. They were friends and he believed that he loved her. She smiled at him as she knotted a crown of flowers together, sitting cross-legged in the field where they met.

That was real. Although it was short-lived, what he felt for Rosy was real. What he had been feeling since then, this hatred and loathing that filled him to the brim, was made by his father. These were not his own feelings. They were merely planted and cultivated inside him until they overtook him like a mountain of weeds in his soul. He did not want to be like his father. He wanted to be like he was when he was seven.

He stood up on shaky legs, barely able to support his own weight on his knees that threatened to buckle underneath him at any moment. Once he gained composure, he slowly exited the room into the empty seventh floor corridor, and Hermione was nowhere in sight.

He headed down multiple staircases to the dungeons when Snape intercepted him on the ground floor. He placed his hands on his shoulders and his face gave way to bad news.

"Draco," he said softly. He looked into his eyes and noticed that Draco had evidence of dried tears. "I have some bad news. From your father." Draco pushed past him and began descending the next flight of stairs.

"I don't give a damn about my father. If you are going to tell me he died then I would throw you a birthday party."

"Your mother is missing, Draco." Draco stopped in his tracks.

"Missing? What do you mean she's missing?" Snape shrugged slightly and met Draco on the middle stair.

"She did not leave a note. Your father said he came home and she was just gone, along with a few of her belongings." Draco felt the weakness return to his body. He did not realize he had started to fall until Snape was hoisting him back up by his arms. "I am so sorry that you have to hear it this way. Your father would have come to tell you himself but he had Ministry business—"

"And business is more important than family. It always has been." He tried to head down the stairs but his legs did not want to cooperate as he began to stumble. Snape reached his arm under his armpit and around his shoulder and helped him to the dungeons. He muttered the password and the stone wall began to recede, revealing the common room which glowed a soft green.

"Draco, if you need anything—"

"I'll be fine." He said shortly, and he ducked into the common room without another word to Snape. In the boys' dormitory, he was the only person. He was grateful for this, because his face was becoming hot with ebbing tears. This was the last thing he needed, knowing that his mother was missing and no one knew anything about it. Through his blurring vision, he caught a glimpse of something sitting at the top of his bed, nestled neatly on his pillow. He wiped a tear away and approached it and saw that it was a flower, still damp with dew. He recognized it immediately. Snowy white, slender, silky petals with a golden trumpet in the center. It resembled a daffodil, but he knew this flower to be a narcissus. There was a note attached by a silver string, tied around the stem.

'I am sorry and I love you.'

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> So, I know that I used the term 'mudblood' to describe the muggle girl. I did this because I figured that anyone, not just magical people, with 'disgusting blood' can be considered a mudblood, not just muggle-borns, but muggles as well. So if you got confused, that's why I did it. Because there isn't really a mean word for muggle..Sorry I left you hanging like that. So it looks like Draco is having second thoughts on being a jack ass! That's good, right? Well, we will see later how this all unfolds, but until then, follow, favorite, and review!


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: **Next chapter!

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><p><strong>12.<strong>

Draco stroked the snowy white petals between his fingers tips, admiring their silky feel and wondering what this means for him. His mother left. It was not like she was kidnapped or killed like the thoughts that had originally gone through his mind when Snape had first told him. This flower was a sign that she flat out left and had no intention of returning. The idea of this was somewhat exhilarating, but at the same time, absolutely terrifying. He was worried for his mother. If they found her, they would surely kill her, and they would not make it a quick or painless death. They would torture her and draw out every ounce of life inside her body before they finally slit her throat. But then again, the images of his mother's disfigured body could not shake this other feeling he felt. He was proud. He was proud of his mother for doing what he could not do this entire time. She was not a coward, and her actions now set flames to the tiny spark that Hermione Granger had set inside him earlier that day. If his mother could do it, so could he.

He ripped out a piece of parchment from his notebook. He knew that it might be impossible, but he wanted to at least attempt to contact his mother. If he was going to do this, he needed support from someone who knew what he was going through. He took a quill from his bag and began to scribble on the parchment, trying not to sound too specific in case his note were to be intercepted, but not too vague so his mother could understand what he was trying to say.

_I don't know where you are, but I am joining you. I don't know how yet, but I promise. Stay safe. Your son._

He figured this was enough to let his mother know that he was going to follow her lead and turn his back on the Dark Lord. He sealed the letter in the envelope and ran out of the dormitories and toward the owlery. Once he arrived, a familiar face flew over to him, landed on his shoulder and began nipping on his earlobe affectionately, eager for a journey. Draco stroked the Eagle Owl's feathers.

"I wish I could let you deliver this, but you are too recognizable," he said as he crossed the small room to a Barn Owl that stretched its wings as it awoke from a nap. The Eagle Owl sprung off of his shoulder, feeling jilted, as Draco tied the letter to the Barn Owl's outstretched leg. He led it to the window and spoke his instructions. "I know you probably won't be able to find her, and that is okay if you don't. Please try and find my mother. She won't be at Malfoy Manor, but she is out there. Please find her." The owl looked him in the eyes and almost seemed to give a slight nod before it took off into the sunset sky on a journey that would no doubt lead to a dead end. Though he knew the letter would probably not meet its addressee, Draco felt relieved. Liberated. This was the start of something else. Something dangerous, and possibly even reckless, but definitely worth the risk. He was switching sides.

He ventured into the library, relieved that there were not that many students lurking about the bookshelves. It was not hard to find the person he was searching for. Hermione Granger was sitting at one of the front tables, perched behind a pile of books, and pouring over a rather large text with archaic looking symbols. He was not sure how he was going to approach her, as not more than a couple of hours earlier, they had a rather nasty exchange. Just a few hours. It seemed like so much longer. Years even. He felt like it should have taken longer than just a few hours for him to turn his back on his life completely and make the decision to risk everything he had. But her words rung true in his ears, and in his mind, there was no other way. He wanted to keep his mother safe, and this was the only way to do it. He strolled over to a nearby book case and plucked a small book from the shelf, Jigery Pokery and Hocus Pocus, then slipped a sloppily scribbled note inside it, making sure a corner of the paper stuck out, so she would know to read it. He walked past her slowly and knocked her neatly laid pile of books to the floor.

"Careful, Granger!" He said with a hiss, secretly dropping his book with the note inside on the top of the pile that now lay strewn on the floor. He walked to the back of the library and watched. Hermione gave him a death glare as her face turned red. He felt sort of bad for making her angry, but it felt like home, and he suppressed a small smile as she started picking up her books. She slammed the first handful down on the table, and Madame Pince gave her a wince from the top of her glasses. Her reddened face now turned to a pink blush as she apologized sweetly. She then picked up the small book and examined it, confused. She knew that this book was not in her pile. Then, she peeled the note from its pages slowly, looking around curiously. She opened it, and read it.

_Meet me in the private study room. Please._

She looked around again, and rolled her eyes. At first, Draco thought she might dismiss him and deny his request, but he knew Granger. She was too curious to not find out what he wanted. He slipped into the room and waited for her to make her entry.

About five minutes passed before the door creaked open and that head of bushy brown hair entered, a couple of books held closely to her chest. She gave him a furtive look before cautiously closing the door, hesitating before letting the latch click into place.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" She said rather spitefully. Her tone stung him slightly. But what did he honestly expect? That she would be sweet to him and bring him a plate of sugar cookies? He decided that just the fact she met him in here was enough.

"I need to talk to you."

"Talk to me? Or insult me? I don't think I have time for this, Malfoy. I said everything I want to say to you already, and I have a potions exam to study for." She turned around to exit when he called out to her, a begging squeak escaping his throat.

"Granger, please. I—" he hesitated. He never expected these words to ever come out of his mouth. Especially not to Hermione Granger. "I need your help." Hermione took her hand off of the door knob as Draco lifted his wand. "Muffli—"

"Don't you put a Silencing Charm on this room! I want people to hear me scream if you decide to attack me again!" Draco rolled his eyes.

"I will not bloody hurt you, Granger! Merlin, you have trust issues."

"Yeah, I would say I do have trust issues with a Slytherin whose sole purpose is to exterminate me!" Draco bit the inside of his cheek. She did have a point. But he could not risk anyone overhearing what he was going to say to her, so he did something he did not even realize he was doing until he had already done it. He handed his wand to her and stepped back to the corner of the room and glanced out the window. Hermione was silent for a moment, and then he heard her whisper.

"Muffliato. Colloportus." She remained in the same spot, close to the door. He did not blame her. She was smart, and needed to be close to an exit in case things went bad. But she had his wand. She had the upperhand. Maybe she did it to not take advantage of her upperhand. "I'm listening, Malfoy."

"You're sure nobody can hear us?"

"Not a soul." He continued to look out the window.

"It's so interesting how the sun goes down and the sky is no longer blue. It's orange and pink and yellow and green. Everything but blue," Draco said, trailing off. Hermione sighed.

"That's very poetic of you. But I doubt you called me in here to discuss the color of the sky." She allowed him to be silent for a moment. To gather his thoughts before speaking. Though he was brash and crude, he was also very meticulous and precise, and she knew he needed time to piece together what he wanted to present to her. She thought she saw his hands shake as he leaned against the window sill.

"Where are Potter and Weasley?" He finally said, stalling. Hermione sighed again, but tried not to sound exasperated with his delaying. She deduced this must be difficult for him.

"Um," she began, "the common room, I think. Why?" Draco scoffed.

"Just curious why the air smelled so fresh."

"Look, Malfoy. If you wanted me here just to insult my friends then I don't think—"

"I'm sorry," he spat. He turned, expecting her to have her hand on the doorknob again, ready to exit, but she was leaning against the table. She raised her eyebrows, her impatience now showing clearly on her face. "For everything. The things I said to you earlier." Hermione just shrugged her shoulders.

"I've grown used to it by now. That's just the person you are, Malfoy."

"But—" he said softly, "But I don't want it to be." His words trailed off as he looked away from her. He could tell she was staring at him, those big, brown eyes boring holes into him like a drill.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Her tone was mixed with curiosity, confusion, and something tender.

"It means that you were right. What you said to me in the Room of Requirement. You really think I can change?" Hermione looked at him sideways as he took a step toward her. She gave him a look like she was seeing a dog walking on its hindlegs.

"Of course," she finally said. He looked at her straight on. He was reminded of the girl in pink he admired a couple of years ago. His palms grew sweaty as she continued to stare at him. "When you say 'change,' what exactly—"

"I can't do this anymore, Granger. I can't be this horrible person anymore. All this hatred I have, it burns me from the inside out. I don't want to be like my father. I can't. I can't do this." Draco started gasping for air, like he was having a panic attack. Hermione rushed over to him and placed a hand on his back. Draco's first instinct was to pull away from her, but instead he pressed against her hand and let her lead him sit down in a chair. His forehead started to sweat. She let his breathing slow before she spoke.

"You don't have to be like your father," she cooed, continuing to rub his back. She thought it felt very foreign, comforting someone like this who tormented her to no end, but she moved in a motion that was not her own, or it did not feel like it.

Draco took a sharp breath in and looked up at her. "Why are you doing this?" Hermione took her hand off of his back and placed it in her lap.

"You asked for my help," she said. Draco just shook his head.

"But you don't have to. I honestly did not even expect you to agree to talk to me, and now here you are, bloody rubbing my back while I break down and you don't have to!"

"I know you are used to people who are only concerned with self-preservation, doing whatever it takes. I'm not a Slytherin, Malfoy. I am concerned with others. When someone asks for my help, I rarely decline. Even when it's someone like you who asks." She stood up and leaned against the wall. "Why did you come to me?" Draco looked away from her. He could not get that pink dress out of his mind.

"I know I can trust you. And there aren't many people around here that I can say that about. So you will help me then?"

Hermione sighed again and tossed him his wand. "I guess I have to, now, don't I?" She said with a smile, and she tiptoed out of the room, leaving Draco to further contemplate the colors of the dusky sky. Everything but blue.

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> So I skipped out on studying so I could finish this chapter. You're welcome! I don't know when I will have time to post the next installment, but it will get done and you can take that to the bank! Until then, favorite, follow and review, my lovelies!


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